


Only You

by Inept_Fangirl



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inept_Fangirl/pseuds/Inept_Fangirl
Summary: Yoon Jeonghan and Hong Jisoo find comfort in each other and learn to love together.Hansol finds himself pining after a self entitled gardener after being cast into a life he never asked for.Soonyoung loves horses more than he loves himself, and is thrilled when someone finally comes into his life that can share his enthusiasm.Minghao is honestly tired of everything, the fake people, the fake empathy, how corrupt it all is- but maybe he can deal with it if it means he gets to spend his remaining days with Jun.Alternatively, the palace AU filled with angst that no one asked for.





	1. Only You Chapter One

The scent of exotic foods and luxury perfumes wafted through the air, mixing together to create a smell so sweet it was almost sickening.

Women adorned with hanging jewelry and flowing ballgowns danced almost enchantingly, trying their absolute hardest to catch the eye of someone of significant importance.

Gentle music could only barely be heard over the excited chatter, the servants politely offering drinks and baked goods to politicians and their undoubtedly spoiled offspring.

Bright lights were reflected over the glossy tile, making the entire room glow in a way that Jisoo found utterly surreal.

Jisoo found himself tentatively scanning the room, searching for the one person he shouldn’t even be associated with.

The excited chatter increased, and Jisoo watched as the once deserted entrance was crowded around. Men and women alike began to flaunt themselves, no doubt seeking praise.

Something wedged itself in the pit of Jisoo’s stomach, a fluttery feeling that he dreaded.

Jeonghan had finally made his long anticipated appearance, looking absolutely stunning- blue was definitely his color.  
Jisoo had to keep from frowning at the smile he put on for guests, the fake laughter, the fake interest-- Jisoo knew that Jeonghan would rather be anywhere but here, at this moment. 

He looked so elegant, so princely, Jisoo almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing (pouring wine); and recalled the last thing he should remembering right now.

Jeonghan was probably the closest thing to a friend Jisoo would ever have. From the age of thirteen, Jisoo had been assigned as a royal servant of sorts. Bringing Jeonghan tea, reminding him of his appointments (to his annoyance), and being a confidant of sorts.

Jisoo was aware that they both had to mature so fast, throw away their childhood like trash. And seeing him now, looking like he did, was enough to bring repressed feelings to light.

To say that the death of Jeonghan’s mother was saddening was an understatement at its finest, the entire kingdom had grieved. The King was a distant man, known for cruelty, lack of sentiment. 

The fact that the Queen had died under rather suspicious circumstances made Jisoo wonder just what he was capable of.

The night of the tragedy, Jisoo had consoled Jeonghan for two hours straight. He had locked himself away in his room, refusing to be seen by anyone.

Jisoo convinced him otherwise.

That night, many things were said. Things that Jisoo knew neither of them could take back, things that pushed the boundary of friendly concern, and could easily be mistaken as something else entirely.

Jisoo’s thoughts were snatched away by the impatient cough of an elderly man, who clearly wanted something to drink. Jisoo awkwardly stuttered out a rushed apology, and distracted himself once again. 

~~

Jeonghan was used to being the center of attention, having people playfully bickering over him was nothing new.

But the hollow empty spot that sat inside of him, that was new.

He longed for his mother’s voice more than ever, the temptation to throw everything away and hide in his room was almost irresistible.

Jeonghan thought of his responsibilities, his role as the future king- and how he could never have what he truly wanted.

A strange anticipation was building inside of Jeonghan, he couldn’t resist searching for the person he needed to see. 

Jisoo is the only person who can lessen the ache, if only for a little while.

Jeonghan felt his throat tighten slightly at the sight of Jisoo offering a drink to a small group of middle aged women. He smiled a smile that could make anyone fall onto their feet.

He tuned in to the apparent political discussion that was taking place (Jeonghan wasn’t interested, anyway) and offered his rehearsed opinion, a small yet firm statement his father would be proud of.

The late evening was approaching, a few guests had already excused themselves and retreated to their rooms. Others stayed, indulging in the leftover food and catching up on the latest gossip. 

Jeonghan caught a glimpse of Jisoo hurriedly making his way down a small, neglected corridor- no doubt trying to escape before anyone asked him for more drinks. The thought was almost laughable, and Jeonghan hadn’t been laughing very much lately.

~~

Jisoo had been in his cosy quarters when Chan had knocked on his door, claiming that the prince had requested his presence.

Jisoo had mixed feelings as his knuckles gently knocked against the soft, gleaming wood. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

The door opened slowly, quietly. Jisoo allowed himself to enter, and heard the satisfying sound of the door shutting behind him.

He turned to face Jeonghan, who was now lounging on a velvet loveseat.

For a moment, there was only silence. Normally Jisoo liked the quiet, it comforted him.

Now it was completely suffocating.

Surprisingly, it was Jisoo who broke the silence first. 

He wasn’t sure what to say, where to start.

“You kept glancing at me earlier,” He spoke softly, uncertainty almost stifling every word. “It was... unusual.”

Jeonghan studied him, and spoke his next words carefully. “How so?” He leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands.

Jisoo adjusted his position slightly as well, crossing his arms and facing towards the window, avoiding eye contact.

“Some might think it was strange, is all.”  
Jisoo faced him again, only for a moment.

Jeonghan chuckled slightly, something close to a smile playing at his lips. “You glanced at me more than once too, you know.” 

His laughter made something stir inside Jisoo, the feeling made him fidget in discomfort.

Jeonghan continued, standing as he did so.

“I like to think that we’ve always been close,” His voice was lower now, he placed himself in front of Jisoo, making his chest constrict.

“You’ve helped me through so much already. I just-” Jisoo gazed up at Jeonghan to see him struggling for words, grasping for a way to express himself.

He sighed exasperatedly, putting his arms at his side.  
“It’s nice. Being around you.” Jeonghan’s brazen words only conflicted Jisoo even more, but he replied nevertheless.

“I know. It’s the same with me, it always has been.” Jisoo was almost frustrated at himself for whispering, as if someone was listening in on their conversation.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to speak, but Jisoo beat him to it.

“I just don’t understand. Something is different, now.” He gestured between them, brows furrowed.

Jeonghan watched him, and Jisoo could only wonder what he was thinking. The scent of vanilla drifted about, candles having been lit prior to Jisoo’s arrival. 

Finally, after a few still minutes, Jeonghan stepped slightly closer.

Jisoo let him.

“I think that, after what happened, it’s natural for things to change.”

Jeonghan was standing closer now, and Jisoo could barely keep track of his breathing. 

He forced himself to look Jeonghan in the eye, his gaze piercing.

Jeonghan had been through so much, just in the last few weeks. He was handling things scarily well, but behind closed doors, Jisoo wasn’t sure what to think.

A part of him wondered if this tension had always been there, hidden, tucked away.

Jisoo cleared his throat, and shifted so that he too was slightly closer. 

“I’ll be there, whenever you need me.” Jisoo shied away from Jeonghan, and gripped the metal door handle tightly. 

“But you know how things are. People are still wandering around…” Jisoo’s voice trailed off, and Jeonghan smiled at him, knowingly.

Jeonghan almost reached out to grab him, and fought the urge to plead for him to stay, to just talk, because everything was easier when Jisoo was around.

The metal handle felt cool beneath his fingertips, Jisoo realized he must have been burning up.

He turned to face him one last time. Jeonghan seemed to inhale deeply, watching Jisoo steadily.

He didn’t protest when Jisoo gently opened and closed the door, leaving Jeonghan alone with thoughts once more.

~~

To be fair, Jisoo wasn’t entirely sure what his problem was either. All he knew was that seeing Jeonghan with messy hair, eyes that were heavy lidded, and hearing him say that he enjoyed having Jisoo around was enough to mess with brain, shake him to his core.  
This was all so foreign to him, things were escalating in a way that Jisoo had never experienced. He had only read about these things, before.  
But those were just silly novels, and Jisoo was just a servant. 

He wasn’t supposed to mean anything, not like this.

Jisoo still didn’t fully understand. Just being close was something else entirely, there were feelings rising up inside of Jisoo that were so complicated, and so problematic.

Jisoo felt like he was on fire, drops of sweat made their way down his back. He groaned in annoyance, kicking the cotton covers off and waiting for sleep to take him.

He could only hope that things turned out for the better. 

~~

Morning light seeped in steadily through scarlet curtains as Jeonghan sat up in bed, hands sliding on silk bed sheets easily.

Jeonghan would give almost anything to have the ability to just sleep again, to pretend that he didn’t have political responsibilities and expectations.

More so now than ever, he longed to not have to live for other people’s expectations, people he has never and never will truly know or care about.

Lee Chan entered his room clumsily, trying to shut the door one handed while clutching a seal envelope.

After making a somewhat graceful appearance, Chan politely handed the letter to Jeonghan and bowed.

“M-morning, your highness. Er- your father ordered me to make a delivery.” Chan stuttered out a greeting and stood up again, his face only slightly red.

Jeonghan always had to stop himself from laughing at Chan’s behaviour, the fact it’s been two years since his employment and he still gets flustered so easily.

Jeonghan thanked him earnestly, and Dino was dismissed. 

Jeonghan opened the letter with a hint of curiosity. It was strange; his father usually just gave him letters outright.

Upon reading the first sentence, he felt his hands begin to shake.

‘Dear Yoon Jeonghan,

It has come to my attention that in the upcoming months, I am to be married off to your father, the lovely King.

Before I continue, I would like to address the death of your mother- the Queen.

I am not here to replace her role in your life, but as a recently widowed woman myself, it is in my best interests to accept your father’s proposal.

A formal arrangement is already underway. My son and I will be arriving soon, and I do hope we can along well together.

Best wishes, 

The Choi family.’

 

~~

Jeonghan wasn’t just angry, he was absolutely livid.

He stood before his father in the master bedroom, the dim lighting only adding to the tense atmosphere.

“You mean to tell me, that not even a month has passed since she died and you’re already marrying yourself off?”

Jeonghan spat out his words like venom, and threw the now crinkled envelope onto glossy tile.

His father wasn’t affected by Jeonghan’s harsh tone and blunt words.

He sat indifferently, and it only enraged Jeonghan more.

“Our kingdom needs this. They need to be united. They look up to our family; if they are under the impression that we are broken, weak- their loyalty could be put at stake.”

He let his words sink in, and added, “We need to seem unshakable.”

He spoke in a low, gravelly voice. His tone was stern, Jeonghan knew that he must have made up mind.

He could feel a lump forming in his throat, something he couldn’t swallow. Past resentment and bitterness was threatening to make him say things he might later regret.

“Tell me what could possibly be so endearing about this- this stranger that makes you want to spend the rest of your life with her. Are you not ashamed? You want to talk about loyalty, how can you possibly-”

Jeonghan was cut off mid sentence by the creaking of his father’s heavy door. 

His volume had risen, he knew this. Jeonghan realised that others in the halls could have possibly heard his tangent.

Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes, Jeonghan had balled his hands into fists.  
A handmaiden had entered, she seemed a bit pale- no doubt scared witless- as she quietly explained that the King had a meeting to attend with some trade partners. Having said this, the girl rushed away. 

The ‘clang’ of the door echoed throughout the now quiet room.

Jeonghan watched his father as he stoically brushed past him.

“You must be out of your mind,” Jeonghan could practically feel bile rising in his throat.

“If you think that those people will ever be welcomed here.” 

Jeonghan returned to his chambers with a pounding head and a heavy heart.

He didn’t care about any meetings or discussions he was supposed to attend, he ordered Chan to cancel everything single one of them.

Chan obeyed without any questions or comments, something Jeonghan was grateful for.

After locking himself in his room for the second time in three weeks, Jeonghan buried his face into his hands and let his tears fall.

~~

Jisoo had only received word of the prince’s strange cancellations by overhearing a conversation between two young women while dusting off pots in the gallery.

“Did you hear? The prince was heard arguing with his father earlier this morning, is that not strange?” 

The other woman nodded her head interest.

“I had been passing through, trying to a find a way out to the garden when I heard all of the ruckus. He cancelled all of his meetings too, one with my uncle.” She sighed, shaking her head while doing so.

“It’s such a shame. Many are going to start questioning his capability as a ruler.”

After a few more hushed whispers the girls bid each other farewell, leaving Jisoo and the ever growing feeling of concern rising inside of him.

As much as he longed to drop everything and go to him, Jisoo had a busy schedule, a job to do- the castle couldn’t maintain itself.

Jisoo worked diligently, trying to go through his chores as fast as he could.

It had been three hours now, and the rumors Jisoo heard had only gotten worse. There was so much speculation, so many versions of one story- Jisoo didn’t know what to believe. 

It was getting harder to tell which stories had been fabricated.

A tight ball of nerves and anxiety was rooted inside him, consuming his thoughts, affecting his work-

Finally one of the other workers, Seokmin, indulged him.

“Jisoo, I’ll cover for you. I could practically hear you worrying upstairs.”  
Seokmin laid his hand on Jisoo’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.  
He tried to joke around in an attempt to lighten the mood. Jisoo had always liked that about Seokmin, he was always so bright.

Jisoo smiled at him. “You don’t have to do that. I shouldn’t be so worried, anyway.”

Jisoo paused, his thoughts trailing off in the process. “I shouldn’t be so worried, anyway…”

Seokmin scoffed. “As if. You’re the only one he even talks to.”

He slung his arm around Jisoo in a lazy fashion, and whispered solemnly in his ear, 

“And besides, once Seungcheol gets word that you still haven’t gone to him- you’re as good as dead.”

The words sent chills down Jisoo’s spine, a tingly fear overrode his natural cautiousness for a moment. Just the thought of the head guard could make anyone shudder in plain fear.

Jisoo felt a pang of guilt, he still didn’t know the truth- he needed to know what had happened, needed to know that Jeonghan was alright.

Jisoo had promised to always be there, and he wasn’t going to throw that away just yet.

He took Seokmin’s hands in his and thanked him sincerely, reminding him (more like begging him) to not send Seungcheol.

After a lighthearted chuckle from Seokmin, Jisoo turned on his heels and escorted himself to Jeonghan’s safe space.

His room.

~~

Jisoo found himself brushing past too many people for his liking- his wished that they could just mind themselves, there was plenty for them to do besides be nosy.

His footsteps echoed and bounced off the walls, and Jisoo’s heart was hammering against his chest.  
His clammy hands hesitantly met with smooth wood, making a small thumping sound against it. Jisoo called out softly, and waited for an answer.

There was none, only the bitter sound of blatant rejection. Jisoo was used to this, though- it would take some convincing before he was let in.

Jisoo leaned against the door and spoke quietly. “Jeonghan, I know you’re in there. Talk to me.”

For a moment, Jisoo’s words fell upon silence. 

However there was reluctant noise stirring from the other side of the door.

Slowly, it opened enough for Jisoo to make his way inside.

It was almost entirely dark, Jisoo found himself squinting while his eyes adjusted. 

Jeonghan stood before him, messy hair and puffy eyes. Jisoo took off his shoes, and laced his finger’s with Jeonghan’s. They sat facing one another on his bed, fidgeting in slight discomfort. Jeonghan slowly scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Jisoo’s neck and burying his face into his shoulder.

Jisoo felt warm, something fuzzy creeped into his chest and made his face heat up. His arms made their way behind Jeonghan’s back, bringing him closer. He found himself running his fingers comfortingly though silky locks.

They sat like this for a few still moments, mainly because Jisoo didn’t want to push Jeonghan too much. Finally he began to mumble into the fabric of Jisoo’s shirt.  
“He’s engaged.” Jeonghan’s voice was hoarse as he muttered bitterly.

Oh.

Jisoo was alarmed by this information, it just seemed reckless, irresponsible for something like this to occur so soon.

It wasn’t sure what to say, his throat had suddenly run dry.

“Jeonghan… That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” Jisoo’s shocked response was cut short when Jeonghan placed his forehead gently against Jisoo’s.

“Don’t apologise, Jisoo. You did nothing wrong.” A small, breathy laugh escaped his throat. 

Jisoo wanted to smile back at him, but his bundle of nerves were untangling themselves and strangling Jisoo’s social skills. 

Sensing how tense Jisoo had become, Jeonghan clutched his hand and delicately began stroking his thumb along his knuckles. 

Jisoo felt goosebumps breaking out all over his body. 

“Don’t get so upset. You don’t have to be anxious, Jisoo-- this isn’t your problem to deal with.” Jeonghan spoke unevenly, trying not to convey his frustration.

Jisoo frowned at him, and refused to meet his eyes. “You’re hurt; of course it’s my problem.”

His pulse was racing in his ears, and that dreaded fluttery feeling and lightheadedness returned. 

Jisoo forced himself to look up to meet Jeonghan’s beautiful eyes. He was closer now, their lips just barely brushing against each other.

Jisoo was almost entirely certain he was about to faint on spot.

He wanted to cover his face in shame from being so flustered but the way Jeonghan was looking at him prevented him from doing so.

Jisoo felt a physical pang when he saw the pain in Jeonghan’s eyes. He needed this, he needed Jisoo more than ever because Jeonghan had no one else to turn to.

At least, not anymore.

It was only then that Jisoo realised that Jeonghan was shaking.

“Jisoo, you just manage to make everything okay again, all the time.” His voice wavered unnaturally, but he still gazed at Jisoo.

Jisoo tentatively placed both his hands on the side of Jeonghan’s face, lightly feeling soft skin.

Glistening tears threatened to spill from Jeonghan’s eyes, and Jisoo wasn’t sure he could handle that. He longed for Jeonghan, longed for his happiness, and to see him smile.

He would rather do anything than sit and watch Jeonghan cry.

And so he tenderly closed the smallest gap that was between them, their lips meeting each other is a warm embrace.

Jeonghan combed his finger’s through Jisoo’s hair, while Jisoo linked his arms around Jeonghan’s waist.

They broke apart breathlessly, faces flushed-- Jisoo’s from intense embarassment-- and stared at one another.

Jisoo listened for any sort of reaction, almost wondering if Jeonghan would be angry.

Jeonghan then said something Jisoo hadn’t expected. 

“Come here.”

And so Jisoo did, and they laid together as Jeonghan lovingly threw his arms around Jisoo and entangled their feet together.

Jisoo could Jeonghan’s breath warm on his neck as he said, “Stay.”

Chills broke out across his skin, and Jisoo yearned for nothing more than to stay and cuddle with Jeonghan for the rest of his life.

“I wish I could.” Jisoo attempted to get up, but Jeonghan stubbornly restrained him. 

“It’s just one night,” Jisoo was struggling to defy Jeonghan’s pleading tone.

Jisoo sighed dejectedly, “It’s too risky, Jeonghan. We can’t get caught, not like this.”

He broke away from Jeonghan’s grasp and sat up, feeling incredibly reluctant to leave. 

Jeonghan took advantage of Jisoo’s vulnerability and earnestly kissed him, longingly caressing the side of his face to the base of his neck.

He whispered into Jisoo’s ear, making the hair on his neck stand up. “If you leave early enough, no one will ever know.”

He settled his hands just above Jisoo’s waist. “You can borrow something of mine to sleep in. It’s just one night.”

The pleading look in Jeonghan’s eyes was enough for Jisoo to give up any sort of weak protest.

He changed into some of Jeonghan’s pajamas, and Jisoo liked how the fabric felt smooth against his skin.

They laid under the covers, tangled up in one another, sharing kisses and other wonderfully invasive things.

Jisoo buried his head into Jeonghan’s chest and breathed in his scent, wondering what it would be like to do this every night, knowing fully well that just wondering such things would only hurt them both.

Jeonghan planted one last kiss on Jisoo’s forehead before they both fell quiet, falling asleep in each other’s admirable grasp, steadying their breathing and the erratic beating of their hearts.

Jisoo could love Jeonghan, if only for a night.

…

Jeonghan gazed apprehensively out one of many windowpanes that decorated the foyer, bile settling in his throat.

The Choi Family were arriving. At this moment, the gates had been opened, a carriage of gold approached the courtyard, far too soon for his liking.

A certain solemness had surrounded the entirety of the palace. Or perhaps it was just in Jeonghan’s mind, and the guests remained as clueless as always. 

His father would be greeting his fiance and her son face to face. Servants would eagerly take away their belongings and store them into luxury suites, suites that even the richest man couldn’t afford.

Jeonghan was simply waiting for someone to fetch him, someone to inform them that they were ready for him to introduce himself despite his rather obvious reluctance to do so.

Jeonghan felt cold, distant. He felt as though his actions and thoughts were separate from his body. He was moving, thinking- but none of it felt real anymore.  
Almost as if he was in a dream like trance.

He would give anything for this to be a dream, something he could escape. A reality that only existed in his deepest nightmares, locked away, intangible.

It wasn’t.

A hand cautiously placed itself on Jeonghan’s shoulder, something soft and wispy tickled his ear.

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

Jeonghan would know that soft, soothing tone anywhere.

He replied by wrapping his arm around Jisoo’s waist, pulling him closer, and huffed.

Jisoo repositioned himself so that he was behind Jeonghan, and rubbed his shoulders calmly.

“Deep breaths. It’s almost time.”

Jeonghan treasured his moments alone with Jisoo, and this one was gone before he could even take the time to enjoy it.

Seokmin entered panting heavily, and briskly motioned for Jeonghan to follow him.

He spoke in broken sentences, attempting to catch his breath from having to hustle up at least seven flights of stairs.

“The King- downstairs, all the way- now.”

Jeonghan scowled at him. “Now? As in, immediately?”

Seokmin tugged on his elbow. “Yes, immediately.”

Jisoo’s hands lingered on his shoulders longer than they should have, but he released Jeonghan with a small smile, their affection seemingly going unnoticed by Seokmin.

Jeonghan knew Jisoo well enough to recognize the complete fear in his eyes. And strangely enough, he too was terrified.

He could feel his heartbeat increasing with every step, his thoughts were cloudy, Jeonghan’s mind was in complete shambles.

This was wrong. 

He hated how fast his life seemed to be moving right before his eyes, it was spiralling out of his control.

It was too soon. He couldn’t, wouldn’t meet these people, give them his all too rehearsed blessing. They had to leave, he had to leave-

And suddenly they all stood before him. 

The King, his father, hugging this extravagantly dressed woman as if he had known her all his life.

Her son stood awkwardly behind her, well groomed but dressed in a more appropriate fashion.

It was impossible to read his gaze as his eyes darted around the room.

His eyes scanned the room slowly before they landed on Jeonghan. 

As if on cue, his father turned to him and offered the warmest, fakest smile Jeonghan has ever had the displeasure of seeing.

“Jeonghan, come- don’t be shy.”

He stood rooted to the spot, glancing around to see that Seokmin had scattered. 

In fact, there was no servant, guest, or any staff lingering about in the halls, as far as Jeonghan could tell.

The room seemed to drop at least twenty degrees as Jeonghan slowly approached the family. 

He stared at them evenly, his head held high and shoulders thrown behind him.

He smiled, and it was actually genuine.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Yoon Jeonghan, I hope you enjoy your visit.”

…

Jisoo pinched the bridge of his nose, and gave Jeonghan a look that left feeling him hot with shame.

“You mean to tell me,” Jisoo gritted his teeth, staring him down all the while. 

“That the first thing you say to them is, ‘I hope you enjoy your visit’? Have you lost it?”

Jeonghan didn’t meet his icy gaze His wording had been intentional, a way of implying that their stay would only be temporary.

It was Chan who spoke up, sitting by the fire while warming his hands. “Actually, I thought it was pretty funny-”

He was interrupted by the gentle scolding of the palace’s head chef, who was forced to stand across the room on marbled tile due to his dirty and apron and flour covered hair. 

“Chan, this is serious. The King is absolutely furious.” Mingyu shook his head nervously. “No wonder Seungcheol wanted to hold an intervention.” 

To be fair, Jeonghan hadn’t exactly been in his best state of mind when he had absentmindedly made the backhanded remark. 

And he most certainly wouldn’t have done it had he seen Seungcheol standing in the doorway. The lecture he had to endure while he was escorted back to his bedroom was enough to keep him from ever opening his mouth again.

Wonwoo sat on the loveseat next to Mingyu, looking gloomier than usual.

“I had been outside working when they stepped out of their fancy horse drawn carriage,” he frowned in a sulking manner, “And the first thing she says is how the vegetables in my garden looked musty. How can a vegetable be musty? I hadn’t even picked them yet.”  
Seokmin covered his mouth to keep from being heard, he laughed quietly.

Mingyu made a small noise of disapproval. “You’re vegetables have always been just fine, I’d know, I prepare them everyday-”

Jisoo spoke up, sounding irritated. “You’re all missing the point. Jeonghan is going to be punished severely for this type of blatant disrespect,”

Jisoo brought his face to his hands miserably, “Oh God, if we were found out to be having a meeting while he’s supposed to be writing an apology letter I don’t what we’d do-” 

The door opened with a start, and the pure terror on everyone’s faces only worsened once it widened enough to reveal who was opening it.

Seungcheol stood facing them, a silver key in hand.

Chan was absolutely mortified, the fire lighting up his panic stricken face. “Se-Seungcheol, you weren’t s-supposed to actually show up, remember?”

Seokmin nodded eagerly, “You have important business to attend to, don’t let us stop you.”

Jeonghan wasn’t sure that fear had a definitive expression, although if it did- it would most likely be Chan cowering next to Seokmin while he rambled on nervously.

Seungcheol gave them both a questioning look while shutting the door behind him. 

“I said 'we’d' be holding an intervention, not 'you’d'.”

His eyes locked onto Jeonghan’s frame, and the room immediately became twice as tense as it was before.  
Seungcheol began to speak in a stern manner, addressing the entire room even though his eyes were trained solely on Jeonghan.

“Let’s go around the room and give reasons on why this behavior has to stop.”

Jeonghan snorted, face resting on his palm, trying to hide his guilt and worry. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need babysitters like you to come and teach me life lessons.”

He folded his hands in lap and toyed with his hands anxiously.

Jisoo eyed him carefully, noticing his guilty antics. “Apparently you do.”

Seungcheol cleared his throat at that, and folded his arms. 

The air became eerily still, everyone warily glancing around the room, doing their best to avoid being the first one to speak.

Wonwoo attempted to comment first, trying to resolve the thick tension that filled the room. “I think that Jeonghan has the right to be upset. I just think that showing it so carelessly… is a bit…”

His words drifted off, having the attention of everyone in the room seeming to be a bit much for him. Wonwoo dropped his gaze while hunching his shoulders, hoping for someone to finish his train of thought.

Mingyu tried catching his eye by smiling encouragingly.

Jisoo picked up where he left off, however.

“It was incredibly reckless. Rumors have already been spread around, you’re only making your leadership skills seem even more controversial.”

He looked at Jeonghan intensely.

Jisoo’s legs were crossed, and his tone was a mix between terrified and livid, if at all possible.

“This new fiance has a new son. From a citizen’s perspective, he has the ability to become the ruler of this kingdom, if you can’t.”

Jisoo’s voice was steely, unnerved, as he said, 

“He could dethrone you; perhaps rather easily.”

These words were greeted by heavy silence. Jeonghan did want to rule, however complicated it would be. He wanted to clear the family history of violence and merciless killings, in the name of his kind, loving mother.

She had always said what a great leader he would be.

Chan muttered what everyone was no doubt thinking somewhat hesitantly.

“...You don’t think that’s why they came, do you?”

Seungcheol answered him immediately, standing up while doing so. 

“Neither of you should talk like that! Theorising is dangerous, it can be considered an act of treason,” 

Seokmin crossed his arms and furrowed his brows at Seungcheol.  
“From an outsider’s perspective, does it not seem like that’s what we’re doing?”

Anxiety filled the air as Mingyu uncomfortably answered, “No, not from an outsider’s perspective. At this point, that is exactly what we’re doing.”

Seungcheol groaned and buried his face into hands briefly.

A looming threat seemed to be held above their heads, possibly more so than before. Should someone be listening, at this moment, the vast majority of them were at least in a considerable amount of danger.

“This meeting was a mistake, now we’re all possibly at risk, if anyone sees us leave-”

He inhaled a deep, thoughtful breath. 

Seungcheol gathered himself and turned to leave the room once more.

“We all should have known better, especially me.”

His armor clanged noisily as he made his way across the room, his face a mixture of emotions.

He wordlessly reached for the handle, but paused.

“I hope everything goes in your favor, Jeonghan-- For everyone's sake.”

With these ominous words resounding in his mind, Jeonghan watched as Seungcheol left regretfully, a conflicted look settled on his features.

Over the span of twenty minutes or so, everyone bid their farewells and apologies, wishing Jeonghan the best while giving him their insights.

Jisoo remained.

Jeonghan studied him carefully, his posture was slacking more than usual, his brows furrowed unnaturally.

He walked over carefully to Jeonghan, hands cupping his face and tangling in his hair.

“I’m scared for you.”

Jeonghan could tell by the shaky sound of Jisoo’s voice, the way his eyes gleamed by the firelight.

Jeonghan removed Jisoo’s hands from his hair and held them tightly, and gave them a reassuring squeeze after kissing them lovingly.

“Don’t be. I’ll do everything I can, I won’t disappoint you like this again.”  
Jeonghan brought Jisoo closer, lips tickling Jisoo’s ear as he softly murmured,

“I promise.”

 

Jisoo embraced him, and they basked in each other’s presence. 

Jisoo responded warily, “I know.”  
Jeonghan wrapped his arms around Jisoo’s neck, feeling his collarbones and jawline, only to tilt his head upwards slightly.

“You sounded like you had more to say.”

Jisoo gave him a look of utter endearment as their lips met.

Jeonghan knew that they had both longed for another moment like this, ever since a few nights ago.

Jisoo touched his face, and ever so quietly, muttered a phrase that made Jeonghan feel sick.

“Honestly, I’m not worried about what you’ll do, it's them.”

Jeonghan’s head was spinning, partially from Jisoo and everything about him.

However he was also the tiniest bit fearful. And with every word Jisoo said Jeonghan realised it was justified.

Jisoo whispered into Jeonghan’s ear, hands stroking his hair in an attempt of comfort.

“I looked into some things. The Choi family just lost a father and a husband, only a few weeks before your mother passed.”

Both of them were a bit shaky now, and Jeonghan found himself tightening his grip around Jisoo by the second.

Jisoo’s next words shook Jeonghan to his core.

“He died the same way as your mother. Poison, doubling over at the dinner table with blood pouring from his mouth.”

Jeonghan came to a startling realisation. 

“Father said she had been sick.”

He was a trembling mess now, and Jisoo gave a look of complete sadness.

Jeonghan nearly fell to his knees, Jisoo had to coax him to lay down.

Jisoo swallowed thickly. “There’s a plot. I don’t know the details of why, but this can be no coincidence.”

Jeonghan tried to hide his tears but failed miserably. 

His wonderful mother had been murdered out of cold blood, most likely by his own father.

Jisoo held him, whispering sweet nothings and wiping away his tears.

His voice was raspy and cautious as he uttered a soft warning,

“Please stay safe,” 

Jeonghan could feel Jisoo’s trembling hands on his face, his eyes bloodshot, watery.

Jisoo’s eyes hardened as he said, “I love you.”

Jeonghan breathed unevenly, “Why does that sound like a goodbye?” The way Jisoo looked at him made him feel uneasy.

Jisoo shook his head, smiling. “It’s a promise.”

Despite the horrible feeling that was churning throughout Jeonghan’s stomach, the voice that was eating away his insides, Jeonghan replied.

“I love you, too.”

Jeonghan didn’t trust the way Jisoo smiled as he wiped his tears away, so he attempted to reassure them both.

“We’ll get through this,”

He smiled fondly at Jisoo.

“Everything will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you find any grammatical errors or inconsistencies, critiques are welcome ^^


	2. Hansol and Seungkwan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansol wants to uncover the truth. Seungkwan likes flowers, and probably Hansol, too.

Chapter Two

Hansol recalled the corrupt memory of his father’s gruesome death with a sense of something similar to pity.

Mr. Choi had been a well respected, charismatic clothes manufacturer, many pieces of his collection sold to the very man about to take the place of Hansol’s step father. 

Hansol’s mother, however- she was seemingly just a smiley housewife who had married rich.   
And while that was technically true, Hansol recognized her manipulative tendencies, the way she always pleaded innocent, always twisted the atmosphere in her favor. The way her eyes glinted maliciously whenever she got what she desired.

Hansol had watched in endless silence, but he wasn’t sure how long the silence could be maintained anymore.  
Her tears, her blubbering- it had all seemed so unbelievably rehearsed that Hansol had to keep himself from scoffing aloud at his father’s burial.

The Choi Family truly was well put together. Whenever a potential client arrived, they became closer than before. More excitable, less dismissive and nonchalant.

Maybe this why Hansol wasn’t actually surprised when ‘the incident’ (as Mrs. Choi calls it) took place. 

Throughout his entire life, it was like a group of strangers had been living together. Hansol’s mother had always been a time bomb in the making, and he found himself apprehensively awaiting her detonation.  
Hansol chewed his lip, as it seemed that period of waiting had come to a bloody end. 

If Hansol’s deduction was correct, the death of the Queen and his father were far too planned, the circumstances crossing the line of mere coincidence. 

He found that this also wasn’t shocking; the royal kingdom always had suspicious plots underway, if you knew where to search.

Although there was one thing Hansol couldn’t understand. The marriage arrangement had been so hurriedly prepared, the King acting in a strange manner, like his wife hadn’t bled out and died before his eyes.

Mrs.Choi, despite being a master of manipulation- was not a genius. She possessed no significant status, she had no desireable qualifications to become a queen.

Hansol couldn’t wrap his head around why the King would allow this kind of plot to unfold.

Why would he kill off the mother of his son, a woman he’s been married to for two decades- for Mrs. Choi?

Did they have some sort of past together, a favor that was due?   
Hansol wouldn’t get the chance to continue his internal monologue. His thoughts of conspiracy were interrupted by the abrupt stop of the horse drawn carriage. 

As he stepped out onto the rocky path, one thing was for certain. Hansol wouldn’t find himself idly pretending for much longer. His hands felt clammy as he realized that the truth wouldn’t reveal itself without his interference.

For now, though- he was supposed to act princely, like a public figure worth trusting.   
Hansol would do what he did best- put on a show.  
…

The guest room was a grand mixture of navy and silver, the glass tile accompanying the master bathroom while the balcony reflected starry twilight. 

Hansol had just returned from a night of awkward gawking and star struck questioning, which would have been overwhelming enough all on it’s own, without being the recipient of not so subtle glares from Jeonghan.

Hansol understood Jeonghan’s attitude toward the situation from the moment their eyes met, grief and anger surfaced with bitter intent. 

Not only this, but Hansol made sure to note the interactions between the prince and a certain unnamed castle worker. Hansol wasn’t sure what role he played, although he was starting to get annoyed catching himself being observed by someone pretending to slave over spotless floors.

Hansol didn’t actually want to become Jeonghan’s enemy. After all, they both wanted the truth reveal itself, that much was clear.  
But after being shut down multiple times, Hansol accepted that Jeonghan’s trust would be a working process. For now, though-- Hansol compelled himself to search around the castle, for familiarity. Knowing how to go unnoticed around the palace would surely come in handy, and hopefully soon.

…

Seungkwan didn’t need much in his life to be happy, really.

He adored his gardening more than anything, constantly being surrounded by sweet fragrances, the satisfaction of newly bloomed flowers that he had planted-- it truly was enough.

His family had been working under the palace for generations, every grandfather, great grandfather-- doing their best for as long as they could to decorate the castle grounds with beauty and elegance.

Seungkwan admired how all flowers were essentially different, how different flowers had different meanings. It was all so simple, yet so rewarding. Seeing children giggle as they raced around the garden, screaming in delight while running through the maze-- hard work had it’s own rewards.

But Seungkwan had always had a little voice of uncertainty. The same uncertainty that was telling him, ‘You probably shouldn’t be out sneaking around in your own garden in the middle of the night’, and yet there he was.

Every staff member, whether they acknowledged it or not, knew of the ominous disappearances that took place. The somewhat murderous tendencies of the King, and how under no circumstances should you ever get involved.

Seungkwan can recall the faces of families he still has yet to see again, the oblivious maids that no longer wander the halls after rumors of gossiping were spread too far.

There were even certain staff members Seungkwan avoided, just for the sake of staying off the radar. After all, who would ever want to harm the lovely gardener?

Jeon Wonwoo, that’s who. Seungkwan felt his blood pressure spike just thinking about his outrageous request.

Even now, he was completely dumbfounded as to why he was doing him such a favor. He wanted nothing to do with any plots, conspiracy, or ominous requests. This is precisely the reason that caused Seungkwan to neglect talking to almost every indoor servant, the nosy bastards.

He had also made this abundantly clear in his first conversation with Wonwoo. Seungkwan wanted to live a life of simple, sweet, fragrant luxury-- or as close as to this as he could manage. Although, Wonwoo had managed to scare him into doing him a favor.

Under the imposing threat of change, Wonwoo declared that no staff member was safe. He reminded Seungkwan of the unfortunate ‘accident’ that resulted in one of the knights being poisoned for reasons still unknown. The King, despite being known to kill-- was unlike his new bride, who had a seemingly infinite bloodlust. Seungkwan had lost count of how many servants had gone missing over the past two weeks since their arrival.

Wonwoo suggested to keep watch at night, to search for suspicious behaviors before returning to his section of the staff dorms. Seungkwan hadn’t asked why, because he was almost entirely sure that he was now tied to a conspiracy, and the less he knew, the better. 

After all, Seungkwan has always been a dreadful liar.

And so he entertained himself by imagining new foreign plants to import, where he would put them, how great they would look next to a fountain-- over by the hydrangeas, maybe.

Soft footsteps could suddenly be heard, steadily approaching. Seungkwan’s stomach squeezed, his pulse racing in his ears.

They got louder still, Seungkwan’s fear paralyzing him-- until he imagined the person’s glowing eyes, their malicious ideas of killing the weirdo gardener wandering around at night--

“Oh! H-hey, you startled me--”

Seungkwan cut off the stranger’s quiet tone with an ear piercing yelp.

“Please! I’m not suspicious, I was just- enjoying-- t-the garden! At night, it’s a new thing people do--”

His panicked rambling was cut short once he looked up to meet the face of his approacher.  
Seungkwan’s face drained of color, any intelligence left in him was no longer accessible.

Choi Hansol, the new prince stood with his mouth agape only a few feet away.

Seungkwan’s quickened pulse drowned out the heavy, terrifying silence, until his soon to be killer attempted to speak once more.

“A-anyway, do you know the way back to the palace from here?” His fluffy hair fell to his face as he shook his head shyly. 

“I got a bit lost when I was exploring.” 

Seungkwan pointed a shaky finger at him, and spoke in a somewhat accusatory tone.

“You’re here because I’m acting conspicuous, right?” 

Seungkwan dusted himself off, and puffed out his chest despite the feeling of impending doom numbing his common sense.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly inconspicuous, so there.”

Their gazes matched evenly, and for a moment, Seungkwan felt a bit calmer.

Until Hansol started laughing. He crossed his arms after running his slim fingers along the petals of a fragile daffodil.

“Hey, your business is your business. I just want inside.”  
Hansol pointed in the general direction of the castle, before casting his eyes to look at Seungkwan.

Something must have changed the atmosphere, but Seungkwan wasn’t quite sure what it was. Hansol studied him now, with a certain interest that made Seungkwan anxious. 

“But you seem interesting. On second thought, let’s talk for a moment or so, shall we?”

A wave of embarrassment flashed throughout Seungkwan’s veins as Hansol clutched their hands together. 

Seungkwan shifted his eyes downwards and reluctantly muttered, “Boo Seungkwan. G-gardener.”

Hansol’s grip tightened a bit, but he was surprisingly gentle for being the son of a temperamental bitch.

Seungkwan smiled as the pleasantly calm reply met his ears.

“I’m Choi Hansol. And believe me, it’s a pleasure.”

…

Hansol scanned the gallery for any sign of life before cautiously stepping in. Most of the paintings were oil on canvas, others sculptures-- but Hansol found that this was the best place to recollect his thoughts and think in peace.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps taking advantage of Seungkwan’s vulnerability was the slightest bit uncalled for, especially since he seemed to be absolutely terrified of Hansol even breathing.   
However Seungkwan was an open book, someone he could easily persuade useful information out of. From what he had gathered from previous conversations, Seungkwan came from generations of castle workers. Someone like this would have been warned about being wary and overly trusting, cautioned about who to avoid. And judging by the looks of Seungkwan sneaking around at night, Hansol wasn’t the only one who wanted answers.

There was a small crash as something hit the floor. Hansol scowled as he saw that the same houseworker had been following him once more, only to knock a sculpture off of it’s display case.

He began to hurriedly collect it off the gleaming floorboard, sighing in utter relief seeing as no damage had come to something so expensive.

Hansol coughed, interrupting the stranger’s temporary bliss. He seemed flustered as he struggled to come up with a believable explanation. Eventually he succumbed to the ever growing coldness in the room.

Hansol spoke in a flat and slightly irritated tone. “You’ve been watching me for weeks now. Care to explain yourself?”

He narrowed his eyes as his face turned an ashy hue. “I have no explanation that I wish to share with you. Although, some say you’ve been lurking around the palace at night. Care to explain yourself?”

Hansol held his gaze evenly, and had to keep a smile from gracing his face. This servant was clever, dangerously so. If word got out that the soon to be prince was conducting his own investigation, things would certainly get out of hand.

The stranger knew this and smirked slightly. However, it quickly turned into a frown.

“You knew that I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You could have had me killed by now.” He murmured quietly, caution settling across his features.

Hansol replied bitterly, a knowing grin upon his face as he leaned against a silver handrail. 

“Yes, well, not everyone in the royal family kills to solve their problems.”

A new presence made itself known, his voice dripping with a slight sense of alarm as he spoke.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan’s eyes widened at the realisation that the servant had been conversing with Hansol.

“Jisoo, you are formally dismissed from whatever this is,” Jeonghan lightly touched his arm as Jisoo stalked past, almost in an apologetic manner. 

“Meet me at eight this evening, we should talk.” 

Jeonghan turned to glower at Hansol, who in turn acknowledged him with a tilt of his head.

Jeonghan crossed his arms and sighed heavily. “Jisoo is a royal servant, for me. I’m not sure what business you have with him, but he will not become another missing face.”

His eyes were distant, and Hansol noted his uneven breathing.

Jeonghan was scared, very much so. His proclamation almost seemed more like a question.

Hansol spoke calmly, doing his best to keep the situation at bay.  
“I have no intention of bringing harm to anyone close to you, despite what you may think.” 

He dared to take a few steps closer, which caused Jeonghan to recoil in utter disgust.

“I don’t need to hear that from you.” Jeonghan turned and began to usher himself away, his displeasure at the situation obvious.

Hansol wasn’t going to allow himself to be rejected this time. Neither of them could ever progress, this mystery would never end without their comradery.

Hansol had to come up with something that would gain his attention, to keep him from scoffing and continuing on his way. Jeonghan was already clearly startled, having seen Jisoo speaking with Hansol by himself.

And so Hansol spoke out of line, hoping to keep Jeonghan in place.

“I can guarantee Jisoo’s safety.”

Hansol’s declaration captured Jeonghan’s attention perfectly. He faced him again, wariness evident in his stare.

“Why should I believe you?” 

The question fell onto the heavy tension in the air, and Hansol realised that he didn’t have an answer.

“Because,” Hansol stepped closer now, placing a gentle hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

His body language screamed discomfort, and Hansol knew that he had already crossed too many lines just in the last few minutes.

“Because, at least it’s better than complete uncertainty. If any harm comes to Jisoo, you can hold me personally responsible. I’ll do everything I can.”

Hansol spoke tenderly, as if he were soothing a child. Jeonghan slowly held their hands together, a firm handshake between the two. 

Jeonghan nodded at him for him to keep going, suspicion clouding his gaze. “Surely you expect something from me as well?” 

Hansol grinned at him, his grip firm. “I need to know as much as you do about everyone here,” he gestured toward the doorway, “We can uncover whatever hidden plot is going on, but I need you to cooperate.”

For a moment, these words were met with nothing. 

“You don’t even need to trust me-- at least, not fully--yet.” Hansol added this in hopes of getting a response.

For the first time, Jeonghan smiled in a way that wasn’t in a completely mocking or demeaning manner, despite being extremely hesitant.

They shook hands.

“Okay.”  
…

Hansol sat across from his mother, head placed gingerly on his palm. She studied him carefully, making Hansol feel an incredible amount of discomfort.

“Is...Is there a reason why you wanted to speak with me?” Hansol decided to reluctantly break the silence, dread slowly increasing.

She smirked as she lifted a porcelain tea cup to her lips gently, leaving behind a smudged trail of red lipstick. Aside from this, her appearance was immaculate, there wasn’t a single strand of hair out of place. 

“I was wondering if you had befriended your lovely stepbrother yet. He’s not very welcoming, is he?” She tsked.

Mrs. Choi’s eyes darkened considerably. She placed the cup down almost daintily, as her grip on the cup wavered considerably.

Hansol was taken aback. He didn’t want to provide a truthful answer, but he was aware of the fact that his mother most likely already knew.

“A bit.” He murmured.

She smiled sweetly, a drastic change from her earlier expression. “I see.”

A few moments passed, before another question was proposed. “Say, Hansol-- wouldn’t you love to be a King?” 

He could feel his breath hitch in his throat at the mention of his name. 

“What...What do you mean? Jeonghan is next in line.”

Mrs.Choi smiled complacently, and placed her unwanted firmly on Hansol’s shoulder.

“Of course, dearest. But...Well, if your soon to be father fell...ill...That would mean that Jeonghan would have to rule, yes?”

Hansol stared.

“But what if he were to fall ill as well? What then, I wonder?” Her smooth voice sent chills up Hansol’s spine.

Hansol could feel his heartbeat increasing rapidly, and he retorted coldly before he could stop himself.

“Just what are you trying to imply?” 

Hansol glared at her with an icy stare, trying to regain his composure.

She stared just as intensely, her grin bordering on malevolent. 

She waved her hand, as if dismissing what she had said entirely. “It was just a thought, don’t take it too seriously, dearest.”

She continued speaking about her growing distaste for castle workers, making Hansol feel greatly unsettled. It may not be long before she realized how close Jeonghan and Jisoo were.

If she hadn’t already.

Hansol remembered his promise to Jeonghan with a sense of guilt. His promise was something that he truly hoped he could keep, with all of his being.

And yet, he knew that nothing could stop this woman. She was ruthless, tearing down families and corporations alike to achieve what she desired.

Maybe that was why Hansol had always complied, turning himself into a puppet that was controlled by her hands.

He had stopped feeling human anymore. Any emotion was barely there, the underlying threat of pretending was so constant from such a young age that Hansol forgot how to feel.

Maybe that was why as he sat here, with the woman who took away what made him human, he came to a startling realization.

He couldn’t stop her, no one could. Hansol wanted to, he wanted to prevent her from hurting Jeonghan, prevent her from unravelling yet another string until there was nothing left.

Hansol was putty in her grasp, he always had been. He’ll end up a scapegoat, a public figure playing yet another role-- this time as the King.

She’ll be the one in control.

She always has been.

This situation is utterly hopeless.

Hansol struggled to look anyone in the eye that day.  
…

Seungkwan was starting to miss the time he was spending with Hansol. And frankly, he was a little hurt that it had been put to a halt.

At first, he had assumed that both of their schedules had become alive with more activity, due to wedding being only a month away. 

But Hansol always came to visit him at night, always. No matter how busy they both were, they would wait for one another. It had started out as something that Seungkwan feared, feeling like he was under a constant interrogation.

These feelings, these long conversations about flowers, interests, pasts-- these feelings turned into something Seungkwan was unfamiliar with, it was fluttery-- it made him feel warm. It wasn’t the kind of warmth he felt for flowers, this was different somehow.

Spending time with Hansol was what he looked forward to now, more than anything else.

Seungkwan refused to be put aside, like a toy that a child had grown bored of.  
Hansol had been the one to pursue him, after all-- why stop now?

Seungkwan gathered a small bouquet of lilac anemones. The meaning was somewhat perfect-- the feeling of being forsaken (which was slightly overdramatic), as well as anticipation. Much like how Seungkwan anticipates spending time and chatting with Hansol.

Seungkwan flushed anxiously. It wasn’t like Hansol knew anything about the poetic beauty of the flower language, anyway.

It wasn’t until Seungkwan found himself roaming the palace halls that he realized he had no idea where Hansol was staying.

He shyly ducked passed any onlooker, trying not to turn red when their eyes fell onto what he delicately grasped in his hands. 

Seungkwan sighed dejectedly, trying to hide his bitter frustration. This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

The halls began to grow dark after at least twenty minutes of restless wandering.

“My, my. Those are very charming. Who are they for?”  
A woman with sleek hair and a rather elegant demeanor commented on Seungkwan’s bouquet as she passed. He guessed that she was a high noble of some sort, seeing as she was decorated with luxurious jewels and accessories. 

“J-Just a friend.” Seungkwan cursed as his stuttering, talking to those of higher classes never failed to unnerve him a bit.

She soothingly placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Seungkwan to tense up a bit. He began sputtering nonsense.

“Wha-ha-wha?”

She spoke with a tone drizzled with a layer of honey, and Seungkwan suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense of distrust. In other words, a ‘I need to get the hell out of here’ feeling.

“You seem lost. Come with me, I’ll help you.” Her smooth fingers tangled themselves around his wrist as she began tugging him gently.

“This will only take a moment.” 

Seungkwan attempted to fight against her grasp. Sweat beaded on his forehead as her her nails dug into his arm, her grip was tightening.

“I really should be going--right now, I have plans-”

She cut him off, and Seungkwan heard rustling as she looked desperately through a velvet pouch slung across her shoulder with her left hand.

“No, I insist.” 

They must have been making a bit of noise, Seungkwan could hear footsteps approaching steadily, someone must have wanted to investigate the noise. Her composure broke for a moment, having noticed this, and a strange look came across her features.

“This will only take a moment.” 

A numbing sensation spread up his upper arm before a firm hand broke them apart, and Seungkwan’s anemones dropped to the floor weakly.

Hansol helped Seungkwan steady himself, and gently placed the bouquet back in Seungkwan’s hands.

He turned to face the woman.

Dread seeped through Seungkwan’s entire being as he was faced with the startling resemblance between the noble woman and Hansol.

Seungkwan felt his knees go weak when it finally dawned upon him-- this woman was the future Queen.

He gripped the wall weakly to keep himself from toppling over. All the stories of bloodlust, of missing servants.

What exactly had she been searching for in that pouch? More importantly, if she had found it, and if Hansol hadn’t shown up--

Seungkwan felt lightheaded, and was absolutely shaken.

Words were exchanged, but Seungkwan heard nothing of them. He was dazed, almost like he wasn’t there at all. A small pinprick was tingling on his wrist, drops of blood steadily falling.

Seungkwan didn’t notice it, he was having an extremely hard time. The world was spinning, everything was fuzzy.

And then everything was dark.

…

Seungkwan’s throat was incredibly dry when he awoke, but aside from that he was completely fine. 

Memories were hazy, however-- a faint recollection of what had happened was accessible.

A small bandage was wrapped around his wrist, and Seungkwan smiled at the sight of it.

He looked up to see Hansol looking at him curiously from a loveseat next to the bed Seungkwan was sitting up in.

On the polished nightstand next to him, the anemones lay.

Hansol was the first to speak. 

“You shouldn’t worry. Be cautious, but don’t stress. I’ll have this sorted out to the best of my ability.”

He ran a distressed hand through his locks, looking more dishevelled than Seungkwan had ever seen him.

“You remember, right? I don’t need to explain anything?”

Seungkwan shook his head.

Hansol sighed. “What were you thinking? Didn’t you say you were terrified of the castle at night? What were you even doing here in the first place?”

Seungkwan felt a sudden flash of embarrassment.

He turned away from Hansol and begrudgingly explained himself.

“W-well, I hadn’t seen you in a few days. S-so I thought I’d be nice and- and-”

Hansol waited patiently.

Seungkwan huffed. “Don’t make me say it! This is bad enough already.”

Hansol gave him a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”

Seungkwan shouted at him in utter exasperation, “Don’t tell me you don’t know! Oh my god, you’re socially dense. I knew it. I knew that there had to be a flaw in you somewhere, you socially inept doofus.”

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Not because he had playfully insulted Hansol, but because he had admitted his struggle in finding a flaw in Hansol.

Hansol, who was still oblivious to why Seungkwan was so flustered, sat there nonchalantly.

“...I still don’t understand.”

Seungkwan groaned.

“They’re anemones. The flowers. They represent friendship, and I brought them for you because we hadn’t talked in awhile, Okay?”

Seungkwan fibbed about the meaning a tad, but who cares? Hansol would never know, and this was less embarassing than the actual meaning that Seungkwan had intended.

Hansol was incredibly slow. “Why?”

Seungkwan fought the urge to slap him. “‘Why?’ What do you mean, ‘Why?’ We’re friends, you moron.”

Hansol blinked, and folded his hands in his lap. “Oh.”

Hansol was acting like he had never had a friend before, and Seungkwan was completely astounded to see that Hansol was genuinely surprised.

Seungkwan had a feeling that it wasn’t because of the action itself, but the meaning behind it. Hansol has surely been showered with flowers, there was no doubting that. 

It was the fact that someone had done something for him without an ulterior motive, without trying to manipulate him. 

And Hansol wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to that.

Seungkwan got out of bed (much to Hansol’s protest) and hesitantly held the flowers out to Hansol.

“This...this is what friends do, so...so don’t leave me out anymore.”

Hansol was a hard character to figure out. He was devoid of love and feeling, and considered things with a dominant sense of logic. He had depressive episodes, where things seemed hopeless. 

Hansol didn’t feel empty when Seungkwan spoke to him.

Hansol didn’t feel like a puppet when he spent time with Seungkwan.  
Seungkwan made Hansol feel alive.

 

Seungkwan’s eyes were alight as he said, “...She’s human, you know. She may be terrifying and unpredictable, but she’s human.”

‘And you are, too.’ Seungkwan didn’t voice this aloud. He would, but not yet. 

Hansol tenderly took the flowers and held them to his chest.

Seungkwan smiled. “If there’s anyone who can do anything about this, it’s you.”

Seungkwan sat on the bed again, grinning.

“I believe in you.”

...

Hansol’s hand was seized by cramps, he laid his pen down with reluctance.

Seungkwan stood over his shoulder, watching as Hansol took notes of the information they both had steadily collected. 

After persuading information out of many workers who attested to witnessing at least one murder attempt at the hands of the queen, some similarities in every case became evident.

There was never more than one worker that was attacked at once. She would inject them with a strange, unknown liquid that was most likely related to some sort of poison.

The victim would faint, and soon never be heard from thereafter.

“We can assume that she tried injecting you, too. But I interrupted her, so the dose wasn’t enough to make you lose consciousness immediately.”

Seungkwan nodded somberly. “Do you think that the does is lethal? Is that what has killed all of these servants?”

Hansol had considered this thought, but quickly dismissed it. “I don’t think so. Going by my father and the former Queen’s deaths, they were messy. Killing someone without a mess...Doesn’t seem to be her style.” Hansol explained.  
“Also, you would have surely experienced some form of after effect from the injection, but there were none.”

Seungkwan took this in, jotting some notes of his own in a small notepad. 

He lost focus as his eyes scanned the room, trying to recall his train of thought.

Seungkwan’s attention turned to a small book laying open next to Hansol that he hadn’t noticed before. He skimmed over it briefly, before his ears turned red.

“Is that a book on the meaning of flowers?”

Hansol grinned to himself. This rare display of genuine emotion went unnoticed by Seungkwan, who was struggling to keep the blood from rushing to his face.

“Yeah. I thought that I should learn more about your interests. Like friends do, y’know?”

Hansol turned to look at him, reading glasses hanging from his nose.

Seungkwan wanted to ignore how much of an adorable dork he was, but failed miserably.

“Yeah,” he said softly. 

Hansol checked the time, and a twinge of disappointment entered him.

“It’s getting late, I’ll walk you back.”

Ever since Seungkwan was approached and almost murdered by the soon to be queen, Hansol decided to walk Seungkwan to and from his room every night to spend time together. It became natural, rather than spending time together at outside, they came together and shared information the two had gathered throughout the day.

And while Hansol was certainly interested in hearing these accounts, they would never interest him as much as Seungkwan did.

As they walked to servant’s quarters (An outside building not connected to the palace’s main interior) a man seemingly their age hurried past, brows knit and features tense.

Hansol wouldn’t have noticed him, except for a strange feeling that he was familiar somehow. Like Hansol had been seeing him for days in different parts of the castle, which was unusual for an ordinary palace worker.

Seungkwan watched him pass, unease replacing his usual bright demeanor.

“...That’s Junhui Wen. He’s the palace’s piano player, or so he says. I don’t trust him, though. He’s always disappearing and reappearing at strange times. Not to mention that people have seen him at meetings with high ranking officials. What’s up with that, anyway?”

Hansol could feel anxiety seeping out of Seungkwan. He truly was unnerved by Junhui.

Hansol was quiet as he stepped into Seungkwan’s humble bedroom.

Past tension forgotten, Seungkwan turned to him and smiled happily. “We organized a lot of important information today.”

Hansol nodded in content.

Something strange was working it’s way into Hansol, and he was unfamiliar with it in a way that made him uncomfortable rather than curious. 

It made him want to stay and talk with Seungkwan forever, even if it meant accomplishing nothing for the rest of his life. 

These weird impulses to grab Seungkwan’s hand, make physical contact with him-- were starting to make Hansol feel like a bad friend. 

What kind of friend wanted to do things like that? Strange.

And yet, as Seungkwan waved his hand in front of Hansol’s face (“Hansol? Hello? You’re staring off into space. Hansol?”) he had the strangest urge to just--

Hansol took Seungkwan’s hands in his, causing him to let out a small yelp.

Seungkwan yelled in embarrassment, “W-what, are you sick or something?”

Hansol shook his head, smiling. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

Seungkwan huffed. “God, you’re so confusing. If you wanted to hold hands, you should’ve just told me, you idiot.”

 

Seungkwan and Hansol stayed like that for long, long time. Chatting to one another, hearts beating and heads clouded.

They were unaware of the figure lingering by the door, guilt creeping into his stomach. 

He didn’t want this any more than they did.

…

Jeonghan laughed, running his fingers over Jisoo’s knuckles playfully to distract him from reading.

Jisoo flushed. “Is that really necessary?” 

Jeonghan kissed his forehead. “Nope. You’re just too cute for me to resist.” 

Jeonghan was grateful for the promise that Hansol had made to him. Even if he knew that it was only the slightest bit of comfort over a mountain of uncertainty, as least he had someone else trying to protect Jisoo.

And Jeonghan would do anything for Jisoo, surely.

Someone stood outside their doorway, heart still heavy with the shame of spying on yet more innocent people.

He steadied his breathing.

‘You’ve done this countless times. Countless. What difference does it make now?’

But he already knew the answer.

 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ Please let me know what you think of the story so far, critiques and comments are highly welcomed if not encouraged :) thanks for reading ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soonyoung wouldn’t see Jihoon again until nightfall.  
> That night would be filled with many, many things. Most of which made Soonyoung feel complete, the feeling he had sought after so vigorously all his life.
> 
> Good things don’t last though, do they?
> 
> If Soonyoung had known, maybe he would’ve wished he had never met Jihoon at all.
> 
> At least it would’ve hurt less, right?

To say that Soonyoung was excited was an understatement. He was thrilled, sparking with the impatience of entering a possible newfound friendship-- something Soonyoung couldn’t seem to maintain.

Soonyoung was an orphan. He could never acquire the stable and supporting love of a family, no matter how much he longed for it.

So he searched adamantly for friendship instead. Soonyoung remained an unstoppable force of relentless positivity, trying to form bonds with the other orphaned kids, hoping to find something irreplaceable.

Unfortunately for him, most children were constantly thinking about their own sorrows, trying their hardest to leave the orphanage as soon as they could.

Soonyoung honestly couldn’t blame them, no matter how lonely he became.

The orphanage was a place of neglect and abuse. Staff members enforced cruel, inhumane punishments that inflicted severe damage-- both physically and mentally. Food rations were constantly running low. Children would scramble for even the smallest portion, tiny fists hitting others out of pure desperation.

Even then, in those hopeless moments-- Soonyoung still tried, at least. There was always a simple core belief that drove him, no matter the hardship.

If nothing else, at least try.  
Soonyoung only has one chance, he knows this. Spending his time wallowing over regret, guilt--he wouldn’t, no, couldn’t spend his life that way. 

If he didn’t have his own emotions, than he had nothing else.

At the age of thirteen, fancy people in wealthy looking clothes came and spoke to several workers. The usually quiet, depressed atmosphere was now alight with chatter. 

Soonyoung suspected (and hoped) that it was some sort of donation, judging by the almost obvious stench of money radiating off of the strangers. Some agreed, others longed for an escape.

For a reason that Soonyoung still didn’t completely understand, one of the staff workers pointed him out directly. It could just be because they were tired of his energy, or maybe fate just had mercy on him for once.

Either way, a friendly looking man in his twenties made his way over to Soonyoung.

He was obviously not as flashy as the other men that accompanied him. His face was warmer, far more genuine. He dressed more modestly, dirt was smudged on parts of his pants and sleeves.

“Hello, there. What’s your name?”

Soonyoung smiled brightly. “Kwon Soonyoung.” 

The man grinned at him, and ruffled his hair. “Say, wouldn’t you like to get out of this place? A little bird told me that you’re filled with a ‘constant irritating bubbliness’.”

He glanced over at one of the workers, who scoffed.

He paused, studying Soonyoung momentarily. “My name is Kim Taehyung, and I’ve heard that quite a bit myself, actually.” His hand was outstretched, asking for a deal that would quite possibly change Soonyoung’s life.

Soonyoung grabbed onto it firmly, shaking it up and down excessively.

 

The rest of the day was so overwhelming Soonyoung hardly remembers it. All he did was gather his small amount of personal belongings, and then leave. 

And Soonyoung never looked back. 

Kim Taehyung was a stableman, working for a palace under the royal Yoon family.

He taught Soonyoung everything he knows. How to care for horses, how to be affectionate with them. They both shared the belief that no two were the same, every individual having it’s own unique personality.

And for awhile, everything was fine. Soonyoung spent his days learning from his mentor and mounting different horses, being critiqued on how well he mucked out stalls. 

They would take guests out for rides, matching the temperament of horse to person.

It was hard, although fun.  
But Soonyoung was naive then. Arguably more than he is now, his oblivion causing him pain in the end.

It was like a dream, a happy ending for a kid who had nothing, was nothing. He never once took the time to stop and think about why any of this was taking place.

He was about to learn about the horrible, persistent ache that was grief.

Taehyung sat him down one day, his goofy smile still present-- but his demeanor changed slightly.

Soonyoung immediately knew that something--something was off. Although his immediate reaction went to the horses, Soonyoung knew better. He had just checked on all of them, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Taehyung smiled, but it was pained. 

His voice was raspy. Since when was it so dead? How long had it had this strange, unforgiving lull to it?

Soonyoung paled.

And why hadn’t he noticed it sooner?

“I’m sick.”

It was short, blunt. But Soonyoung didn’t understand the meaning.

“Do you need to take a break? I’m fourteen now, I can take care of the horses for awhile--”

He patted his shoulder, eyes twinkling kindly as always.

“That...that isn’t what I mean, Soonyoung.”

It was kind in nature, just like Taehyung. He was trying to soften the blow.

But Soonyoung didn’t understand.

He really, really didn’t want to understand.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung casted his eyes downward, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“I… needed someone to look after the horses. Once I was gone.”

Soonyoung felt a burst of frustration flow through his veins. He wanted to speak, but no words left his throat.

“And so I thought to myself...Where can I find someone?”  
Soonyoung gripped the edge of his chair, splinters digging into his fingers. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Still, Taehyung continued.

“I felt bad for all of those kids at the orphanage, but horses take a lot of patience and energy. I specifically needed someone like that, y’know?”

Taehyung looked at him, that so called ‘box grin’ of his was pressed on features, but not out of happiness.

It was out of comfort, sadness, and so many other emotions Soonyoung didn’t want to name.

He spat out something uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re...sick.”

Taehyung fiddled with his hands, almost in a pleading manner. His voice was a stable baritone, a deep whisper that would become nothing but a memory.

“I’m not ever going to get better. I’m...sick. Very, very sick.”

His eyes had small bags under them. Taehyung’s hair was untamed, his clothes wrinkled and appearance unkempt. It dawned on Soonyoung that slowly, Taehyung had become more and more dishevelled over the course of a few months.

Soonyoung’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. God, how could he not have noticed?

Soonyoung jumped out of his seat, causing Taehyung to flinch in surprise. It landed behind him with a crash, the chair splintering apart into pieces.

“I don’t understand. What are you even saying? This can’t be right, you can’t just...” 

Taehyung shifted his eyes downwards as Soonyoung lamented.

“I mean--You’re dying? And I… I didn’t even know.”

Soonyoung almost cried in complete frustration. This wasn’t fair, this couldn’t be happening. Not to someone like Taehyung.

“You’re the only friend I’ve ever had. I had the right to know. I should’ve known!”

Taehyung frowned at him, sadness revealing itself through his gaze.

“I couldn’t bring myself to. You were always so eager to learn, so happy. I…”

Taehyung stiffened under the weight of Soonyoung’s glare.

“I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Those words would haunt Soonyoung for the rest of his life. 

He had stormed out in a flurry of emotions threatening to swallow him-- sorrow, anger, fear.

Soonyoung didn’t see Taehyung for the next week. His own childishness preventing the truth from sinking in, that it was all done for his own protection.

His own childishness preventing Soonyoung from saying goodbye.

Two weeks later, Kim Taehyung left the world in a peaceful slumber.

After six months of actual happiness, Soonyoung found a persistent emptiness inside him once again.

Guilt and regret seeped into Soonyoung, grief conquering every nerve, keeping him from feeling.

Soonyoung had never felt loss--because he had nothing to lose to begin with.

He had stayed like this, until Taehyung’s favorite mare gave birth to a dainty foal.

Life was not to something to take for granted, to cast aside. Soonyoung couldn’t remain angry with the world, with himself--anymore.

He just wanted inner peace. A sense of comfort, anything to get away from the things that plagued his consciousness.  
And so Serenity was born. 

And so Soonyoung found a new purpose. 

To find true, complete serenity.

…

 

From then on, Soonyoung slowly returned to his cheerful, extroverted self. The only change was how he noticed the smallest details now, and his newfound passion for life.

Soonyoung would attain inner peace, he believed it.

Every ounce of desire was put into caring for the horses, and even though he loved them dearly, they couldn’t fill the ache.

Soonyoung was determined to form an unbreakable bond with someone. It would last, it wouldn’t be taken away from him. 

That’s all he had ever wanted ever since he was a child.

That’s why, he believes that this will complete him.

Soonyoung beamed as he saw a small figure approaching.

He was sure that maybe peace-- or something like it, was approaching him with grumpy, reluctant footsteps.

...

Jihoon was hesitant to believe his luck, even in these circumstances.

Despite the fact that theorising is considered a royal act of treason, it never seemed to stop the endless flow of gossip that constantly plagued the town, and irritated Jihoon immensely.

Still, news travels fast-- Death, poison, new Queen. It was all so suspicious, and investigative authorities were being awfully lenient with details that would surely connect the pieces together.

Jihoon prided himself on the fact that he came from a generation of rather successful private investigators. It was only natural that he continued the family legacy, preserving their name.

He had yet to achieve solving a grand case that would guarantee that his name never be forgotten. There were many murder cases, but all of them ended in the same, predictable fashion-- someone paid for a cover up, but never bothered to cover their tracks. Nothing Jihoon was solving was interesting enough to keep up his family name, he didn’t want to be seen as a disappointment.

This is exactly why when he had received a letter regarding the questionable circumstances around the Queen’s death, Jihoon had been ecstatic.

Hong Jisoo worked in the palace himself, and for reasons unknown-- requested Jihoon personally, offering a generous amount.  
Jihoon had sent a letter in response, requesting a meeting.  
Jisoo had recalled the fact that while he wanted to investigate himself, there simply wasn’t enough time. There was also the fact that any strange behaviour could have him killed, should he slip up.

Jihoon had accepted. However, there was a fault that neither of them were sure how to solve. 

Jihoon had no way of getting a position at the palace without his identity getting discovered almost immediately. All maids and staff that worked within the castle were interviewed personally, the name ‘Lee Jihoon’ would be recognized almost instantaneously. 

Creating a fake name was another option, but Jisoo had discouraged Jihoon from even attempting to get a job within the castle itself.  
“Castle workers are dropping by the day. Should you get a job, you’ll most likely be next.”

Jihoon considered this, and believed it best to somehow prevent himself from being forced to work indoors.

Getting a job as a staff worker would be too daring, anyhow. It would become apparent that Jihoon was looking for information.

…

Jihoon sat in a crowded tavern, a cloak pulled over his frame, concealing his face.  
He new that this was best place to get neglected information from. It was a resource Jihoon found himself using too often for his liking.

The bartender, Namjoon-- he was a shady guy. Knew things that he shouldn’t, and used it against people for money. If you had the willpower or the wealth, he may just tell you anything.

And luckily for Jihoon, he just happened to have both.

He sat on a stool next to another worker, who chatted with Namjoon teasingly. 

Namjoon disregarded him, and instead turned his attention to Jihoon, who watched them quietly.

“Oh, so it’s you again. Can I at least get a name this time?”

It was dark, the tavern was dimly lit by candles. It was also filled with aloof individuals who didn’t seem to enjoy socializing much, which was something Jihoon appreciated.  
He spoke lowly, almost in a whisper. He didn’t want anyone to hear this specific topic, seeing as it would cause a lot of attention.

All Namjoon knew was that Jihoon paid him for knowledge. If he got any word that Jihoon was an investigator, Namjoon would probably have him killed, in fear that Jihoon would shut down his miniature black market business.

“Do you know anything about the new Queen, or the death of the previous one?”

Even if Jihoon couldn’t find a way into the palace directly, if he could pull the right strings-- he may not have to.  
His job was to simply gather enough evidence to provide to the public, expose the underlying secrets. He doesn’t have to set foot on royal grounds, necessarily.

Namjoon eyed him and scoffed. “That’s asking for a lot. So what if I did? I don’t have to tell you anything. I want to keep my head, thanks. Can I interest you in something to drin-”

The man sitting next to Jihoon must have overheard, because he started laughing. He turned to face Jihoon, who bristled uncomfortably.

“What’re you into all that for? The less you know about royals, the better--y’know? And I’m talking from experience.” 

His face was innocent, but it somehow had a menacing quality to it.  
Jihoon knew he was walking on eggshells now, if he revealed what he was doing here-- he had no doubt this guy would kill him on the spot.

“Shut up Jungkook, I was talking. Make yourself useful and go to the back or something. Hoseok and Jin need help sorting through some storage boxes.”

Jungkook smiled cheekily, waving Namjoon off all the while. “I was just curious. He comes in here all the time, asking weird stuff.”

Jungkook glared mischievously. “I just wanted to know what he’s up to.”

Much to Namjoon’s indignation, Jungkook began pestering Jihoon. Almost as if he knew something, but wanted Jihoon to give himself away.

Jihoon broke out in a nervous sweat. Between Jungkook’s chattering and Namjoon’s scolds, people’s attention diverted to them.

He needed to escape, a way out. He was acting too shady, even for these people. If he didn’t provide some sort of explanation, Jungkook would figure him out and possibly expose him.

Jihoon didn’t really want to die yet, thanks.

The wooden door to the tavern swung open, creating a loud echoing crash that made Jihoon flinch.

A man about the same age as Jihoon himself entered, smiling as though he was made of happiness itself.

He seemed to have looked around and noticed the rugged appearance of the place and it’s inhabitants, because he suddenly became a bit hesitant.

He swallowed thickly. Jihoon pitied him, because if he left now-- he was a goner.

Realizing this, he stiffly made his way to the momentarily stunned Jihoon and plopped down next to him, grinning nervously, face flushed from embarrassment.

Jihoon jumped when Jungkook burst out laughing.

“That was some entrance. Who are you? You’re not even covering your face, how bold.”

It was true. Aside from the bartenders, everyone sought to mask their identity, whether they be criminals--or maybe even detectives.

Namjoon wanted no part in any of it, so he attended to some of the other customers. Jungkook slung his arm around Jihoon’s neck and waited patiently for a reply, not seeming to mind that he was invading Jihoon’s space.

The man blinked owlishly. “Oh, was I supposed to cover my face? Why would--”

As if he suddenly realized he was in the most dangerous bar in the entire country, the boy cut himself off and seemed to have an epiphany.

This probably wasn’t where he had intended to be.

He stood awkwardly, and avoided eye contact.

“I think I’m leaving now.”

Jihoon felt inward pain for him, he wasn’t going to get out of this place alive. This guy had zero tact.

It was strange, this man was so honest he was slowly digging his own grave.

Jihoon quickly spared a glance at Jungkook, expecting to see the kind of expression a predator would give to prey.

Instead, he seemed strangely somber. 

Almost as if he had been reminded of something.

As quick as it was there, it was gone. He smiled bitterly, and now seemed a bit mean rather than playful.

“Oh, no. Why would you want to leave? You only just got here.”

Jungkook quickly pulled the poor guy in, and commanded rather than asked Jihoon to move down a seat.

He complied, leaving this naive guy to fend against Jungkook all by himself.

If he had known any better, Jihoon would’ve left then and there. Unfortunately, he felt anxiety for what exactly would happen if he did.

Would this guy be killed? Mugged? The options were endless for this place.

Jihoon decided to stay put, only for the time being. If this idiot got himself killed, Jihoon would feel bad for the rest of his life.

“I have somewhere to be, I don’t think I’m in the right place.” He weakly protested against Jungkook, who sat him down.

“You’re here now, what does it matter? Besides,”

Jungkook offered an almost pained expression, that alerted Jihoon of immediate danger. When Jungkook showed true emotion, it was usually rage. 

The recipient also usually ended up dead, so Jihoon couldn’t begin to imagine what this kind of vulnerability would lead to.

“You remind me of someone.” Jungkook gritted his teeth.

The man perked up at that. “Really? Huh. I try to be like my mentor, he was a great man before he died--”

Jungkook squeezed the man’s shoulder, his knuckles turning white. Jihoon watched as the stranger’s face contorted in slight pain.

Before he could speak, Jungkook began explaining himself almost venomously.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t want to be reminded of him,”

Jungkook’s expression darkened as he spat out, “You’re making me remember.”

Jihoon was taken aback considerably. Of all the times he had the displeasure of visiting this place, never had Jungkook broken down like this.

“God, you’re just like him. You entered just like he did.”

He paused for a moment. “And I don’t like that.”

Jungkook stood up, strangely distraught. “I really don’t like that.”

 

Jihoon cursed to himself. This was getting out of hand, faster than the stranger or Jihoon could manage.

Namjoon must have heard Jungkook’s increasing volume, as he rushed over and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey! Don’t be like this, not right now. Go to the back--”

Jungkook spun to face him, defiantly struggling to escape his grasp.

“No, I don’t want to. You don’t understand, Namjoon--”

The stranger looked stunned as he watched the scene unfold in front of him, frozen.

Jihoon mentally urged him to run, right now. Jungkook was still standing awfully close, it both of them tried to leave chaos would ensue. 

But maybe one of them would get away.

Namjoon seemed almost as upset as he murmured to Jungkook quietly.

“Don’t talk like that. We all miss him--”

Namjoon was slowly guiding him around the table towards the back door. His eyes met Jihoon’s, almost as if he was trying to convey something.

Jihoon didn’t wait to find out what it was.

He pulled on the back of the boy’s shirt, and whispered softly.

“Come on.”

He turned wide eyed to look at Jihoon. Jungkook’s protests could still be heard, he was resisting-- and doing a good job at doing so.

Jihoon beckoned to follow him.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, follow me.” 

Jihoon wouldn’t stay for much longer, that he knew.

The stranger cautiously nodded his head.

The door creaking was the only sound of their escape, as Jihoon led them to safety under the moonlight, breaths fanning out in front of them both from the chill.

...

 

Soonyoung hadn’t envisioned himself in this situation when he had left for town about an hour prior, however things had a way of working themselves out, he supposed.

The fire illuminated the man’s expression, at least from what was visible-- he remained adamant on not revealing his identity until he was positive Soonyoung wasn’t a criminal of some sort.

“You already brought me to your house,” Soonyoung smiled at the stranger, attempting to seem trustworthy.

He had said house, but it was more like mansion. Soonyoung had been dumbfounded when the two had approached the building, that was almost like a mini palace in it’s own right.

Soonyoung hadn’t meant to be impolite, but had impulsively commented on his home-- having been exposed to a life of simplicity rather than luxury.

So far, all that had been revealed was that most of his wealth was inherited. His profession, along with many other things-- remained unknown. 

He stared at him from across a velvety chair, his eyes boring into Soonyoung’s-- almost as if he were analyzing him.

The man sighed as he folded his hands. 

“I just need to know why you happened to be in such a shady place, you just don’t seem like the type.”

Soonyoung objected, “You were there before I was! Why are you asking me so many questions? You’ve obviously been there before, you had your face covered. If anything, I should be asking you questions.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure, but it looked as if the stranger was smiling under the cloth that covered the lower part of their face. The rugged cloak they were wearing laid discarded over the chair behind him.

“Ask away.”

Soonyoung hadn’t quite expected that response, so he sat momentarily speechless.

“Alright… What were you doing in Spring Day Tavern?”

The man shifted guiltily, his eyes casted to the floor.

“I can’t tell you.”

Soonyoung groaned.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if we both avoid questions,”

Soonyoung thought for a moment, before exclaiming-- “A question for a question! I ask you a question, and you ask me one. Deal?”

Soonyoung held his hand out in anticipation. The stranger eyed it in amusement, but didn’t take it.  
Soonyoung withdrew his hand dejectedly.

“...Alright.”  
Soonyoung grinned at his hesitant affirmation.

He leaned back, feet propped up on a small wooden stool. 

Soonyoung repeated his question, eyes gleaming.

The smaller man answered matter of factly. “I was there for my job. I was trying to get information on something,” 

Soonyoung wasn’t satisfied with this alone, but didn’t interrupt the man as he kept speaking.

“Now, what were you doing there?”

If Soonyoung was honest with himself, he didn’t know why he was even talking to this guy. He had no reason to prove himself, he could just leave if he really wanted to.

But their conversation had a certain lightheartedness to it, it made Soonyoung happy. Besides, this stranger had helped him. 

Soonyoung wanted to get to know them, find out a way to repay them for their assistance without asking them outright. 

It would mean more that way.

Soonyoung leaned forward slightly as he replied, taking his feet off of the stool all the while.

“Well, I was there for my job as well, you could say.” 

The stranger nodded, signalling for him to continue.

Soonyoung scratched the back of his head as he spoke.

“I used to have a friend who mentioned that place sometimes-- Spring Day Tavern, I mean. He never told me what is was, exactly-- but he used to visit.”

Soonyoung hesitated, not wanting to dampen the relatively light mood.

“Ever since he died, I’ve been taking care of the horses by myself. That’s what I do, I’m the stableman at the palace.”

The man blinked, and suddenly leaned forward. “Seriously?”

Soonyoung waved his hand, as if it wasn’t an important detail.

“The work has been overburdening lately, I wanted to find someone to work with.”

Soonyoung yawned, unaware of the widening gaze of the man sitting across from him.

“But I must’ve had the wrong place. There’s no way Taehyung would ever hang around a place like that--”

The man interjected, his jaw slacking. “Wait. You work at the palace, right? And you were wanting someone to work with?”

Soonyoung stared at him in disbelief. “Do you know someone? It can’t be you obviously, with this kind of house, you’d never--”

The man took off the cloth that concealed his face, and folded it neatly in his lap.  
He looked up at Soonyoung expectantly. “No, I’m serious. You could say it’s for my job, too.”

Soonyoung beamed at him, knowing fully well that someone like this would have to open up over time, he wouldn’t tell Soonyoung everything right away-- and he was alright with that.

Soonyoung excitedly held out his hand once more.

“Name?”

This time, they took it-- seeming incredibly satisfied with themselves, despite being a bit cautious.

“Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon thankfully took his hand this time.

…

Jihoon set his bags down next to a small cot that sitting parallel to Soonyoung’s, which was messily made up.

The cabin was relatively small, nothing that Jihoon had grown up in-- but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.  
Jihoon had investigated crimes in far worse places, with dirt littering the floor and the metallic scent of blood in the air.

Soonyoung’s place was nothing like that. It was charming, and even though the lack of privacy would bother Jihoon a bit-- Soonyoung seemed like a reasonable guy, he would give Jihoon space if he asked for it.

Soonyoung helped Jihoon pack his things away and get situated. It was still daylight, despite the evening approaching. 

After a few minutes of Soonyoung running in and out of the cabin, Jihoon couldn’t prevent himself from asking what he was doing. After all, the creaking floorboards were starting to annoy him.

Soonyoung gave him a lopsided grin. “I was getting some things ready. I want you to meet the horses as soon as you can, you’ll love them.” 

Jihoon felt a small excitement bubbling up inside of him, he had never spent time with horses in his life. 

The trek to the horse stalls was short, seeing as it was within eyesight of the cabin. Soonyoung commented on this,

“I like being able to see them. It keeps me from worrying.”

Almost as if Jihoon were at a meet and greet, Soonyoung took him down the line meet every individual horse and describe their traits.

The first was a smokey miniature horse, that neighed and sometimes nipped people when she got too excited.

“That’s ARMY. She really likes children, but she gets cranky sometimes.”

The next horse was almost orange in color, but mainly reddish brown. Jihoon reached out to pet him, laughing when the horse playfully took an apple from his hand.

“Carat is a good boy. His food bowl is pink and blue, and he got mad at me when I tried to give him a new one.”

Soonyoung brushed him fondly. “Silly thing.”

A large Shire nearly scared Jihoon to death. 

Startled, Jihoon took a few steps backwards until he bumped into Soonyoung.

“Soonyoung, that’s going to kill someone--”

The horse blew air from it’s nose, almost as if it were laughing at him.

Soonyoung chuckled. “Bulletproof is scared of cats, he couldn’t hurt you if he tried.”

There was a moment of silence before Soonyoung spoke again.

“Okay, that was a lie. Bulletproof probably could kill you-- but I promise that he won’t.”

The last few remaining horses were all part of a family, Soonyoung explained. 

The mother was Taehyung’s horse Kookie. Soonyoung said that he wasn’t sure why he insisted on the name being spelled that way, but never asked him otherwise.

“This is her baby, Serenity. She has another baby, too-- this one came a bit late. Even now, I have no idea what to name her.”

Serenity was speckled gray, and stuck her tongue out playfully. Her sister was a Palomino, a free spirit and a pain to discipline according to Soonyoung.

“What about Rose Quartz?”  
Jihoon regretted his outburst before he even fully registered what he said.

Soonyoung blinked. “What?”

Jihoon flushed as he explained himself indignantly. “W-well, she’s almost rosy in color, and Serenity’s coloring almost looks like a quartz, so-”

Soonyoung patted him on the back.

Jihoon wasn’t one for sudden contact, but he wasn’t sure why this gesture suddenly made him so nervous.

“Don’t get so flustered. It’s a good name, yeah? We’ll call her Rose for short.”

Jihoon felt his ears turn red and hoped that Soonyoung didn’t notice as he begrudgingly accepted the compliment.

Oh, he did.

Jihoon washed up, and spent the evening asking Soonyoung questions about caring for the horses and life at the palace.

Soonyoung shrugged most of his questions off. “You don’t have to learn everything in one night. There’ll be plenty for you to absorb tomorrow, get some rest.”

Eventually, light was only being emitted from a small lantern on the desk that side beside Soonyoung’s cot.

Jihoon imagined that he had fully intended to turn it off, however fell asleep mid conversation about the time Soonyoung had been headbutted by ARMY and fell against the stall.

The soft lull of Soonyoung’s light snores were enough to let Jihoon know that the coast was clear, and hoped that he wouldn’t awaken.

Jihoon relinquished the small blaze that sat atop the candle in the lantern, and carefully slipped outside the cot.

The night air was breezy, Jihoon’s hair was ruffled by the wind.

He stalked carefully near the entrance of the palace, heart thumping wildly in his chest.  
Tonight was simply a test run, to see how many people would regulate the halls at this time of night.

The hallways gleamed, light seeped faintly from windows.  
Other than that, it seemed utterly lifeless.

Jihoon was about to enter, when an overly charming voice interrupted his analysis.

“I’m going to provide you with a word of caution.”

Jihoon spun around, light headed. “Who’s there?”

Jihoon scanned the area around him, alarm seeping into his veins.  
There was no one in sight.

“Oh, are you looking for me? How cute.”

Jihoon directed his attention upward, where a figure was silhouetted by the the silver light of the moon behind them. They stood on the balcony above, leaning over the golden railing. 

Jihoon couldn’t make out a face, the light was hitting the stranger from behind, illuminating only their shape.

Their words were teasing, almost taunting. Most criminals Jihoon had dealt with enjoyed playing a game, enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

It seemed this man was no different.

“If I recall correctly, I don’t think you belong here.”

Jihoon stared at them defiantly. “Why is that?”

If Jihoon could see an expression, he was almost positive that they would be sneering.

“Oh, you don’t know? Let me tell you, then.”

Jihoon’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He longed to enter the palace and confront them, however being caught could result in death.

That’s why he was provoking him so carelessly, so shamelessly.

They knew of Jihoon’s current lack of power.

The question was how.

“You’re fooling around in things that don’t involve you, Lee Jihoon. It would be such a shame if something were to happen.”

Jihoon spat, “What the hell are you talking about?” How do you know who I am already?

Jihoon felt cold, weary. He was being threatened, but he didn’t know with what.

“You don’t have to worry about me unless I have to worry about you. Are we clear?”

Jihoon refused to retort, his temperament running low.

“...After all, I truly want the best for Soonyoung. Really, I do.”

Shocked, Jihoon choked back a stinging reply. “He has nothing to do with any of this. But you already know that, don’t you?”

The stranger stared down at him, and even though Jihoon recognized the psychological game he was playing, he still found himself falling victim to it.

Establishing power, derailing confidence. It was a classic.

He knew what he was doing.

“Consider this a warning, Jihoon.”

Jihoon yelled from anger, perhaps even too loudly. “Soonyoung has nothing to do with this, leave him out of it.”

The stranger turned,and Jihoon caught a glimpse of brown hair and a formal suit.

Jihoon called out to him. “Make no mistake,”

The stranger stopped. Jihoon could almost imagine the smirk playing on his lips.

“I won’t go down so easily.”

The balcony door swung close, the sound resonating within Jihoon’s brain.

Jihoon was left alone with the impending feeling of irrationality and danger.

Soonyoung was at stake.

They knew Soonyoung.

Shit.

…

The next few weeks went by without incident, despite Jihoon constantly being on guard. He supposed it had to do with the fact that he had been to weary to even attempt anything.

It wasn’t like him. It wasn’t that he lacked empathy, but Jihoon was known for putting his job first, no matter the circumstance. He was almost positive that there would be a solution.

But in the end, Jihoon wasn’t sure what it would cost.  
…

Soonyoung loved having Jihoon around. It had taken a lot to coax him out of his shell, but once Soonyoung managed to-- things gradually started to look up a bit.

Jihoon asked him about caring for the horses, tips on brushing them and how often you should give them treats. It was nice, having someone who was there to help him dirty his hands; and not just leave after having the luxury of riding them. 

It was great.

But Soonyoung knew something was off. Ever since the incident with Taehyung, Soonyoung has been cautious of other people’s behaviour. Jihoon had a constant worry line between his brows. His tendency to get lost in thought was intriguing, but the face he made while looking off into space worried Soonyoung.  
And he still knew nothing of Jihoon’s profession, what his goals were. Why was he helping Soonyoung to begin with?  
Soonyoung hoped that Jihoon would eventually confide in him.

Soonyoung wanted to lessen the burden, no matter what it was.

…

“Hey, Jihoon. You mucked out Bulletproof’s stall? That’s amazing, you used to be terrified.”

Jihoon smiled shyly. “It’s nothing. That’s what you have to do. Anyway, was it clean enough?”

Soonyoung watched as Jihoon’s nimble hands delicately braided Rose’s mane, intertwining strands carefully. He was so caring, even if he neglected showing it.

Jihoon turned back to look at Soonyoung, having been expecting an answer.  
He hadn’t been expecting to see Soonyoung watching him so intently.  
A part of Jihoon wished he had never turned around.

Soonyoung’s hair fell onto his face, sweat sticking to his forehead. He looked messy, but Jihoon still felt the blood rush to his face. His stomach had a strange feeling that made him always need to clutch something to keep him standing.  
Only Soonyoung could do that to him.

Soonyoung blinked. “Oh. Yeah, you did fine.”

There was a strange tension in the air. Their eye contact was almost too invasive, and it had only lasted for a few moments.  
But it was something neither of them could take back.

Soonyoung longed to get closer to Jihoon, to inhale his scent and talk with him about things that didn’t even matter for as long as he could.  
Jihoon was private, introverted-- and the last thing Soonyoung wanted was to put strain on their friendship.  
So instead he leaned up against the railing, clumsily attempting to make it seem like he wasn’t gazing at Jihoon.  
He wasn’t very successful.

Instead of teasing Soonyoung, Jihoon quietly beckoned him over.

“Hey...Could you help me with the braiding? It’s...it’s hard to grasp the smaller strands.”

Jihoon continued grasping at glossy ribbons and tying them, inwardly condemning his request.

Soonyoung was nervous as he stood awkwardly next to Jihoon, instructing him and giving him helpful tips while Jihoon brushed out Rose’s (now) somewhat matted mane. 

It wasn’t going very well, and although Jihoon tried not to show it-- Soonyoung knew by pink tint to his face that he was either frustrated, embarrassed, or both.

Without thinking, Soonyoung reached his hands out and began toying with Rose’s sleek, fluffy mane.  
His fingers were almost overlapping with Jihoon’s, who had gone completely still.

“Uh--Kinda like this,” Soonyoung muttered shyly, avoiding eye contact.  
It was so unlike him.

They stayed like this, Jihoon silently watching Soonyoung as he guided through, leaving neatly tied ribbons in his wake.  
Soonyoung hadn’t registered what happened when he felt something underneath his fingertips.

He looked down, and nearly yelped in surprise.  
Soonyoung had placed his hand overtop of Jihoon’s, who remained still.

Soonyoung apologetically tugged his hand away.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to--uh--”  
Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to say. In his flustered state, he was unaware of the small grin that had settled on the other’s face.

“I didn’t mind.”

Soonyoung thought he might die then and there.  
He had hurriedly finished up the braiding, hoping to finish up and leave as soon as possible. 

Neither of them spoke of the incident as they left the barn, Soonyoung worrying that he had ruined their relationship, made things uncomfortable between them, despite Jihoon’s response.

Jihoon linked his fingers around Sonyoung’s wrist, the contact setting his skin alight.  
Soonyoung glanced at him curiously, to find Jihoon looking up at him with an unreadable expression.  
“I…”

Jihoon directed his attention to the ground.

Soonyoung thought that he noticed a faint tremble in his voice, along with a slight shake in Jihoon’s hand.

It was so subtle that Soonyoung wondered if he had imagined it.

Soonyoung felt Jihoon’s grip tighten as he grasped their hands firmly together.

Jihoon looked at him with that same expression, the one Soonyoung wished he would never see again.

“I have something I have to tell you,”

Seeing Jihoon observe him with such purpose made Soonyoung’s heart stop in his throat.

“It’s something you deserve to know, and I should have told you sooner.”  
His voice wasn’t anything like what Soonyoung was used to. This Jihoon was hesitant rather than confident, his voice wavered unnaturally.

But isn’t this what he had been waiting for?

Soonyoung felt Jihoon’s thumb gently stroke his knuckles. And he was close, so close, Soonyoung could feel his hair against the tip of his nose--

And then it was gone, as soon as it came.  
Jihoon turned away, and murmured something Soonyoung barely could catch.

“Meet me after the sun sets.”

Soonyoung gawked at him dumbly. He had so many questions, so many concerns.  
He could think of one thing to say.

“Where?”

Jihoon shrugged. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

Soonyoung wouldn’t see Jihoon again until nightfall.  
That night would be filled with many, many things. Most of which made Soonyoung feel complete, the feeling he had sought after so vigorously all his life.

Good things don’t last though, do they?

If Soonyoung had known, maybe he would’ve wished he had never met Jihoon at all.

At least it would’ve hurt less, right?

…

The air was finally starting to feel like Autumn. The air was cool, breezy. Crickets and birds could be heard chirping, fireflies still dancing around-- not ready to succumb to the chill just yet.

The sunset was bleak, almost gray in color.  
For some reason, those had always been Soonyoung’s favorite. 

Still, colored light peeked from behind stormy clouds-- rain was in the air, among others things.  
It was nice.

Soonyoung watched for Jihoon, as he had been for several minutes.  
The small figure had yet to be seen, but he had faith in Jihoon.

Soonyoung knew better than to doubt anyone like him. 

A small figure approached, strides seemingly confident. The look in his eyes said otherwise, they practically screamed apprehension.  
Despite this, he was a strong presence in front of Soonyoung.  
His eyes blazed.

“Hey,” Soonyoung grinned. It was natural for Jihoon to be nervous, Soonyoung got the feeling that he was used to solitude, dealing with things by himself.

And although that could be said for either of them, Jihoon endured it by choice.  
Soonyoung didn’t think he would ever be able understand being alone voluntarily.

Jihoon inhaled deeply, before awkwardly stuttering out, “I don’t really know how to say this, but--”

Silence.

Jihoon groaned. “God, this is harder than I thought it’d be--”

He put his hands over his face, muffling the almost comical noises of frustration.

Soonyoung put his hand on Jihoon’s head, causing him to look up.

“You need to relax,” 

Soonyoung gently took his hand with ease, and led Jihoon near the wall of the castle.  
The windows were opened, classical music could be heard being gently played inside over the sound of people conversing.

The fireflies were still flying about, the wind carrying the sounds of nature.

Soonyoung guided Jihoon’s hands up to his shoulders, however Jihoon recoiled momentarily.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Soonyoung let out a breathy laugh. “Have you never danced before?”

Jihoon turned away, flustered. “I never had the time.”

Soonyoung smiled at him encouragingly, as if to say ‘just give it a try’’.

Jihoon reluctantly placed his hands atop Soonyoung’s shoulders, eyes still evading him, looking off to the side.  
Likewise, Soonyoung placed his hands along Jihoon’s waist-- who yelped at the sudden contact.

“This is stupid. I can’t dance, I’ve never--” Jihoon’s flushed face began rambling, much to Soonyoung’s amusement.

Soonyoung began swaying gently. “You’ll be fine. Follow my lead; once you’re relaxed enough-- we can talk. Okay?”

It was awkward and stilted, but surely enough-- Jihoon and Soonyoung were dancing together.

After a few moments, Jihoon closed the strange gap between them by placing his head onto Soonyoung’s chest.

He added, “I’m only doing this to make you more comfortable.”

Soonyoung snorted. “Thanks.”

A new sound was cut into the air.

The piano was being played, the sound filling both of their ears-- it was located near the window, after all.

“Ah, that’s Junhui. He’s great, isn’t he?” Soonyoung commented wistfully, watching Jihoon like he was the only thing in the world.

He couldn’t see the corners of Jihoon’s lips turn downward. “You know him?”

Jihoon attempted to play off his remark as innocent curiosity and luckily succeeded.

“Yeah. He and I used to go to the same orphanage. There was a worn down piano he would always practice on. That’s when these guys found him, they wanted to make him a prodigy or something.”

Soonyoung didn’t notice the grip on his shoulders tighten considerably.  
“It was such a coincidence that he was here, too. But we never had the chance to reconnect, he was always so busy.”

Jihoon backed away to look at Soonyoung, who was blinking at him.

“Do you know anyone else here?” 

Soonyoung chuckled. “Nah. Most of the people here think that they’re hotshots, I’m fine with the horses.”

Jihoon stared at him with a sudden realization.

“That’s it.”

Soonyoung glanced at him curiously. “What?”

Jihoon grabbed his wrist, the piano being forgotten behind them.

Soonyoung gaped. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon turned to look at him. “Do you remember where we met?”

Soonyoung nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, of course. Why--”

Jihoon began to speak in hurried sentences, fueled by his newfound resolve.

He was confessing everything that had been burdening him-- right from the start. 

Jihoon was a private investigator gathering information on the suspicious death surrounding the Queen.  
The ‘Spring Day Tavern’ was a notorious black market that had the facts on just about anything, if you had a reasonable amount of money.

He had been searching for a way into the palace, and that’s where Soonyoung came in.

Jihoon explained his theory about the man on the balcony that night, warning him of getting involved-- that he was actually Wen Junhui.

Maybe Wen Junhui wasn’t who he seemed.

He also informed Soonyoung, who was currently gaping in shock-- that he had written to Namjoon, asking about anyone involved with murder case working at the palace, offering a sum of money.

Namjoon had agreed to the meeting, scheduling an appointment at the at the Spring Day Tavern for tonight.

The look in Jihoon’s eyes tugged at Soonyoung’s heartstrings. 

He speculated that Taehyung was likely a regular there, for whatever reason. It seemed as though Soonyoung had picked up some of his mannerisms, making it likely that Jungkook had made the subconscious connection between the two.

“If you come with me, we’ll stand a better chance of getting this information and gathering enough evidence to convict someone.”  
Jihoon panted, out of breath from saying so much in so little time.

This time, he held his hand out for Soonyoung.

“Will you come with me?”

Soonyoung hesitated for a moment, voice going quiet-- straining.

“I’m not sure I understand all of this...I don’t think I’m smart enough to, honestly.”  
Soonyoung offered a sad smile. “I don’t think you should trust me with something so important.”

A sudden stifling silence fell between the two.  
Jihoon scowled at him. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re the only one I trust besides myself.”

It was so out of character, but Jihoon held Soonyoung close.

It was stiff, but comforting.

“You don’t have to come. But for any reason other than looking down on yourself.”

Soonyoung returned the embrace, arms eagerly fitting smugly around Jihoon’s frame.

“Let’s go.”

…

Spring Day Tavern was entirely deserted, it seemed as though Namjoon had closed the place temporarily.  
He had claimed that anyone hearing would be dangerous, so he diminished the possibility.

Jihoon silently agreed.

Soonyoung had the lower half of his covered, much like Jihoon-- who had insisted Jungkook would kill him almost immediately if he was recognized right away.

Namjoon led him to a back room, where he sat down complacently in front of them.  
Jihoon passed him an envelope, which Namjoon checked thoroughly before concluding that the amount he’d been promised was there. 

He crossed his legs on the desk before him, aware of the control he was in.

“You had asked about someone involved with the murder of the Queen living at the palace?”

Namjoon waited for a response, which Jihoon supplied the moment he stopped speaking.

“We have a name now. Wen Junhui.”

Namjoon arched a brow at this. “A name? That’s a bit short notice--”

The door burst open, causing everyone in the room to flinch considerably besides Namjoon.

Jihoon eyed him carefully. 

There was something off. The way the door had been slammed open, almost as though he had expected it.

Almost as though,

It had been planned.

Jihoon was starting to feel uneasy.

“Namjoon, why--”  
Jungkook stopped mid sentence, eyes going wide after seeing who sat before him.

Namjoon gave a reply through clenched teeth. “Jungkook, I hadn’t been expecting you.”

Going off of body language alone, it seemed like Namjoon really hadn’t been expecting to see Jungkook.

Someone else passed by, halting in front of the door and gaping when Jungkook already stood there.

They exchanged a look with Namjoon, before continuing down the hall.

Something wasn’t right.

Jungkook glared at Jihoon, before saying-- “Oh, it’s just you again. Is this guy why we’re closed?”

Namjoon gave him a menacing stare. “Not right now--”

“Did you guys know Kim Taehyung?”

Everyone stilled.

Jihoon spun around to face Soonyoung, who sat obliviously next to him.

What the hell is he--

Jungkook lifted Soonyoung up abruptly, slamming him against the wall.  
This time, Namjoon sat in shocked silence.

This time, Jungkook wasn’t being stopped.

“How the hell did you know him?” Jungkook’s demeanor completely changed, just like that night.

Soonyoung tore off his mask, making Jihoon inwardly panic.

What was he doing?

Jungkook spat, “Oh, so it’s you again.”

Jihoon could see the whites of Jungkook’s knuckles.

“Hey, we’re getting sidetracked--” 

Jihoon attempted to reason with Namjoon, almost asking him to step in.

Namjoon eyed him. “This…this is actually important.”

Soonyoung, despite the worrying situation-- continued talking like it was nothing.

“Uh-- he liked horses.”

Jungkook’s intensity was enough to make anyone shudder.

Soonyoung returned it, but in a less aggressive manner.

“He worked at the palace, he was like my mentor. I came here because he used to talk about this place, sometimes.”  
The air had chilled considerably.

The person who had stalked past the door came rushing back in, gripping the walls in sudden desperation.

Jihoon realized the door was still ajar, anyone could have heard what was being exchanged.

“Namjoon, they have to go. If Tae knew them, then--”

Namjoon stood, cutting them off. “Jimin, go lock the doors.”

Jimin turned once again, following Namjoon’s command.

Jungkook dropped Soonyoung to look at him in frustration. “I knew you were planning some sort of set up! Why wasn’t I involved?”

Jihoon faced Namjoon. “Set up?”

Namjoon spoke hurriedly after announcing their rather limited time.

The night Jihoon had asked about information, the night everything had began--

He was there.

His identity masked, much like everyone else. He must have been sitting at the bar, something Jihoon was unaware of.  
Either that, or lurking close nearby.

After Jihoon and Soonyoung had made their escape, the man had paid to be notified when anyone asked about the mystery surrounding the palace.

Having been notified, he arranged an incident where Jihoon would be killed.

Jihoon mentally cursed himself.

He had been caught right from the beginning, before anything had even started.

Jihoon understood why someone as reckless as Jungkook wouldn’t be involved in something like this. It was a plan, something that had to be carried out accordingly.

The plan had been to stall for as long as humanly possible until Junhui arrived.  
That’s why this Jimin was supposed to interrupt.  
That must’ve been who Namjoon was expecting.

“Someone who knew Taehyung can’t die here, Namjoon.” Jungkook was almost emotional.  
It was the saddest Jihoon had ever seen him.

Namjoon seemed stress, running his fingers through his hair. “Go through the back door and don’t look back, otherwise you won’t have any time.”

Soonyoung gripped Jihoon’s hand quickly, wrenching him out the door and around the corridor.

Panting, he slung the door open before the two began sprinting.  
In between breaths, Soonyoung panted-- 

“We passed the door on the way to that room.”

Commotion could be heard in the distance; they had left as soon as guards from the palace had entered.

Their footsteps crunched on leaves loudly. Shouts could be heard somewhere behind them.

A sharp pain flared in Jihoon’s leg, causing him to stumble to the ground.

It was excruciating, Jihoon covered his mouth as he shouted in pain.

Soonyoung came to his side, lifting him up.

Jihoon looked down to see an arrow embedded in the back of his knee.  
Tears stung his eyes.  
It was too late for him. They had no time, there was no way Soonyoung could carry him and still escape.

“Soonyoung, go--”

Dread mixed with the pain made breathing almost impossible. Jihoon gasped for breath as footsteps got closer.

Soonyoung was at his side, shielding him from the upcoming footsteps.

Jihoon could hear his muffled crying.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

Jihoon felt grief, an indescribable, empty feeling.

It wasn’t for himself. Being a private investigator came with the risk of death, Jihoon was already prepared for it.

It was Soonyoung.

Soonyoung shouldn’t die.

Jihoon buried his head into Soonyoung’s shoulder. 

“Soonyoung, please--”

The footsteps and shouts became clearer, closer. 

Soonyoung tilted his head up, lips warm and soft against Jihoon’s.

Jihoon tasted tears as Soonyoung trembled against him.

Soonyoung can’t die.

A sickening sound rang out as crimson blood spattered the rotting, fallen leaves.  
Soonyoung’s body slumped over Jihoon, who only cried louder as he tightened his arms around Soonyoung.

An arrow was jutting out of his neck.

The pain in his leg was nothing compared to the pain he was feeling in his chest.  
This stinging, piercing feeling.

Soonyoung.

Was it all his fault?  
An arrow pierced his side, blood flowing out of his wound and caking his skin.

Blood hit the ground with steady droplets as his vision began to blur.  
His thoughts beginning to fade as his blood stained the ground beneath him.

Rain began to fall, the blood washing away as if it were nothing but an unfortunate memory.  
Soonyoung.

…

Taehyung entered the Spring Day Tavern with zeal in his steps, hoping to relax and wind down after having a rather stubborn training day.

He opened the door almost too fast as it slammed into the wall, creating a loud echoing smash.

Somewhere, someone was laughing. 

All eyes turned to him as he made his way to the bar, embarrassed.  
Taehyung suddenly realized the shady nature of this place, it seemed as though everyone aside from the staff were concealing their identity with masks.

He sat down next to a man who looked about his age, who smiled at him teasingly.

His brown hair framed his face, his eyes were wide and youthful.

He almost reminded Taehyung of a bunny.

“Wow, what an entrance.” The man jokingly re-enacted the scene with dramatic hand motions and side effects.

Taehyung felt his heart speed up.

The stranger was cheerful, happy looking. Despite this, Taehyung wasn’t thrilled of the idea of being in a place like this.

He got up to leave suddenly, uncomfortable with the idea of becoming familiar with a stranger in a shady bar.

“I think I’m leaving now.”

The stranger outstretched his hand and gripped Taehyung’s.

He pouted in a child like manner. “Already? That’s a shame, you were interesting. Everyone else in here are just boring criminals--”

He was hushed by the bartender.

The man laughed.  
He leaned in and whispered something to Taehyung.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook. Even if you leave now, can I get a name?”

“Kim Taehyung.”

He didn’t end up leaving.

…

His legs were crossed as he sat there, blankly staring at nothing.

How long had it been, again?

He wanted to feel something, anything.

Intense guilt. Sorrow.

Anger.

No feelings came except a dull emptiness that seemed to always be present now.

'I just want everything to disappear.'

Things weren't always so easy.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, my finger slipped.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Critiques are encouraged, and thank you for reading :)  
> 


	4. Quick Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In short, the story is not discontinued, I just went through a semi-hiatus :) the next update is being worked on currently! Thank you all for reading.

Hey everyone! Just a short update. The story has not been discontinued or anything like that, but I went on a hiatus due to some things that happened— I figured that I owed you all an explanation. 

I was working on the latest chapter when the news of Jonghyun came out. Suicide is already a sensitive topic, and I had a hard time finding motivation to write after that. 

I hope that I’ll be able to get the next chapter out in the next few weeks, thank you all for being patient :)

PSA: Suicide is very serious. I hope that anyone suffering from depression, or any other emotionally or physically dangerous situations gets the help they need.

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Youth Hotline: 1-800-448-4663

United Way Crisis Helpline: 1-800-233-HELP

Please keep in mind that these numbers may not work in all countries, and feel free to suggest more numbers you think I should add :)

Thank you all again. <3


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything comes to an inevitable end.

Leaning forward on his palms, Junhui listened to the somewhat rhythmic sound of her fingernails tapping gently on the desk before him, her grating voice pierced his eardrums in a way that he found all too familiar.

“You’ve done well for me.” She examined her nails, refusing to even bless Junhui with a glance. 

The twisting in his gut told him more than he wanted. She was referring to the betrayal of Soonyoung, the palace horse keeper. 

Formally known as Soonyoung, the closest thing to a childhood friend Junhui had ever known.

Junhui found that he had no response to that. The words that came to mind, the words that plagued his conscience-- he couldn’t say them.

He chewed his lip.

The woman continued, her purple ball gown practically flowing out from her chair. She shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to peasant’s seating.

“Allow me to frank,” Her eyes bore into Junhui’s, who watched her unwaveringly. 

“My wedding is one week away. Do away with that boy before then,”  
She waved her hand while her words were spat venomously. 

Junhui swallowed. Everything that had been endured had come to this, hadn’t it?   
He didn’t want to. This overwhelming guilt, the fear of becoming close to anyone or anything-- hidden behind the facade of a charismatic musician.

The screams kept him up at night. The people who screamed for their lives, begged for mercy, pleading with tears streaming down their faces.

Junhui met her eyes with an even stare.

He had never wanted to be a monster. 

...  
Minghao was impressed, to say the least.

The entire palace was coated in gold, crystals and gems hung from chandeliers that were suspended and dangling overhead. Royals and trade partners laughed and shared wine while music was being played softly in the far corner of the room.

Minghao’s mother placed her gloved arm on his shoulder, and squeezed it firmly.   
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She smiled at him warmly.

Minghao chose his words carefully, still feeling out of place despite the hospitality. “It’s different,” 

She laughed quietly, retracting her hand and placing it by her side. “It’s incredible. We’ve never had an offer from anyone out of our small seaside Kingdom, and from a Queen no less!” 

Minghao nodded. Their silk was well known throughout town, people ready to pay high prices for signs of wealth and beauty.   
They had certainly lived in luxury, but it was simply incomparable to what laid before him. 

His mother seemed distracted as she gazed around the room in wonder. “You’ve always hated things like this.”

She gestured towards the room that was laid out before them invitingly.   
“Perhaps you’ve changed your mind, tonight?” 

Minghao absorbed the room, stiffening. It was truly a utopia, there wasn’t a displeased face to be seen.

Despite this, his mouth sat in a flat line as his eyes searched the ballroom. 

Many people danced, smiling politely and chatting with one another. It felt stilted.

Minghao lowered his voice. “These people had their wealth handed to them. You and father-- you earned it.” 

There was a moment of silence as his mother stared at him, unblinking. 

“We can never be like them.” He murmured. 

There were many meanings to Minghao’s statement-- too many to convey in such a simple exchange. He resisted flinching away from the resigned look his mother displayed as she stalked off and joined Minghao’s father, who was chatting animatedly with a group of foreign merchants. 

Biting back guilt, Minghao made his way to the corner of the room where music was drifting into the air and livening the mood. 

He went generally unnoticed, as most people were already preoccupied-- this was a party for kingdom business partners, not guests. As such, most conversations were far too polite and bordering on aggressive and intimidating.  
Minghao had decided that he wanted no part in it. 

Minghao leaned on a smooth marble pillar, and listened to the piano while he calmed his breathing, and avoided eye contact with his mother-- he could feel her eyes boring into his back.

The piano player was a slender man with soft brown hair. The way he hit every note, the way his hands skimmed the keys almost lovingly--

Minghao swallowed and averted his eyes to the stainless floor. 

Infatuation was a hinder, nothing that he felt he could handle at the moment. Not in these circumstances, not in a place that was all so foreign to him. 

Excitement, that’s truly all it was. Being in a foreign place meant seeing new, foreign people. Minghao was experiencing something beyond his wildest imagination-- of course he would be eager. 

Still, it was pleasant to watch the emotion that crossed the man’s features as he played.   
He was genuine, which was something Minghao didn’t see often enough. 

There was a tapestry that covered the wall a few feet behind the pianist, it depicted the Yoon family crest in varying shades of violet, magenta, and gold.  
Minghao instinctively reached out a hand to brush it gently, the fabric feeling soothing beneath his hands-- rough from working almost constantly to keep up with high demand.  
And to Minghao’s surprise, the tapestry dipped beneath his touch. Startled, he took a few steps backwards-- clumsily bumping against the pillar. His eyes flickered to the pianist, who remained engaged and unbothered.  
Minghao peered from around the pillar, seeing that the crowds had begun to dissipate. His mother and father remained conversing with a small group of middle aged men.   
For a few moments, Minghao chastised himself.

Going to investigate was an awful idea, there was too much at stake. 

Perhaps if he was fast enough, no one would ever notice his disappearance. And if he were discovered, all would have to do was say he fell through-- right?

And besides, it wasn’t as if he would be missing anything. Minghao had spent the evening awkwardly standing next to his parents and answering questions that were uncomfortably directed towards him and his love life. 

Minghao tentatively brushed the tapestry, and darted a hand behind it. He could feel nothing but open space and a cool draft.   
Before retreating behind it, he turned to confirm that there were no lingering eyes watching him. 

Quickly and carefully, Minghao vanished behind a curtain of violet. 

…

Junhui reluctantly tore his fingers away from the glossy keys, and searched the empty room in silence. The party had only ended minutes ago, and yet it felt as though no presence had been in the room for hours.

Junhui stood abruptly. There was so much at stake-- so much that he needed to do in so little time. The Queen wanted Yoon Jeonghan dead before the nearing wedding-- most likely to brush another tragic death under the rug with a raging celebration.   
She was so cunning, so dangerous.

Junhui could never defeat her. 

The violet curtain that rested behind taunted him to no end-- a reminder of a life that he couldn’t escape and dreams that could never be lived.  
He felt like his chest was being constricted, as it always did when he had murders to plan.   
That was always the worst part-- the thinking. The thoughts that tainted his nightmares and plagued his every waking moment. Still, Junhui couldn’t procrastinate forever.   
He needed a strategy, a place to think and cry and relent in hopelessness as another innocent would fall from his hands.

What better place, then the place where everything had started? 

His only haven. That sad, rotting, pathetic haven.

Junhui could hear the blood in his ears and his faltering footsteps as they echoed across brick floors that were being chipped away. The dark, damp hallway was silent aside from the soft scurrying of rats.   
On his left he could see a sliver of light pouring from a wooden door covered in splinters.   
Which was strange, considering that Junhui always had to fumble around in darkness until the rough and uncomfortable texture was beneath his palm. Even after he pushed through the rotting wood, it would take him minutes to strike a match and light a candle. 

And so Junhui felt his heart in his throat when his eyes fell upon light illuminating the hallway.   
It couldn’t be the Queen, she had already spoken to him in private this morning-- and Junhui knew she’d rather die than step foot in a filthy corridor.  
Before he could think any better of it-- Junhui pushed open the door with panicked movements, causing the door to hit the side of the wall in a loud echoing crash.   
Pieces of old brick fell to the floor as Junhui’s wide eyes fell upon a boy sitting in a chair in front of him-- who seemed startled and incredibly unnerved. 

“Who are you?” 

…

Minghao had almost tripped over his gangly limbs several times while struggling to find something to grab hold of. The walls were slick with something he didn’t feel like identifying, and the sharp squeals of mice only made his staggering worse.   
He almost turned back before bumping straight into a door and then falling to the ground. 

His hand hit the side of something to his left, which Minghao used to pull himself up. He could feel cool air seeping in through cracks that littered the walls.   
The sun had not completely set, the faintest bit of light allowing Minghao to find a box of matches laying idly on a rounded table-- accompanied by a wax candle, clearly used recently. 

For a moment, Minghao entertained the idea of leaving, slipping into the party once more like nothing had ever occurred.  
Alas, Minghao knew his luck could only go so far. The odds of him escaping and going unnoticed were unlikely enough-- returning would be difficult; unless he returned after the party had ended completely. 

The room wasn’t very spacious, the aged furniture taking up over half of the available space. The walls were made out of the same chipped, sand colored brick.   
A worn down piano was seated in the very center, with pages of music and composed pieces scattered on the faded leather seat. An oak bookshelf was next to this, with a gap in the upper right corner. 

Curious, Minghao pried with his fingers a bit.  
The bookshelf scooted forward while the gap increased. The candle lit up enough space for it to become evident that there was a room hidden behind the cracked oak.

Making enough space for Minghao to squeeze inside, he found that another rounded bedside table awaited him. Once again, a box of matches were placed upright and leaning against the wall. A glass lantern that caged another snow colored candle collected small cobwebs from all the dust that formed. 

Lighting the lantern slowly, Minghao gazed around his surroundings in mild confusion. 

It was someone’s living chamber. More importantly, someone’s frequently visited living chamber. A twin sized bed with a thin, holey, cotton blanket was unkempt. A desk with a lamp enclosed the space on either side.   
Minghao could see what appeared to be an opening leading to a white tiled bathroom on the left side of the wall. A small briefcase poked out from beneath the bed’s mattress, a lock sitting solemnly on the front.   
A series of file cabinets and drawers were on the right side of the bed, unable to be opened without a key.

Mingaho’s pulse raced in his ears. He supposed this was a servant’s living quarters, and felt a surge of guilt for invading their privacy.  
More importantly, he also realized how incredibly awkward it would be should they find him here. 

Minghao attempted to leave the room exactly how it had been found-- messy, but not unclean. The bookshelf was inserted back into place, with the small hole practically burning Minghao’s retinas. 

While trying to rush out into the damp hallway, he knocked over the papers that were spread across the piano’s once shiny surface.   
The papers fluttered the floor as Minghao silently cursed himself.

Muttering, he stacked the papers in his hands and placed himself into a rickety chair to get them in order. 

Without warning, the door slammed open and crashed into the side of the wall-- taking dust and brick off the wall and onto the floor.  
Minghao flinched, startled--as the pianist from the banquet stood before him. His composure seeming to be breaking as his eyes strained over Minghao with a strange intensity.

“Who are you?”

…  
Junhui watched as sweat beaded on the boy’s forehead, as he stammered out a flustered response.

“I-I’m no one, really. I just--ended up here. Sort of.” 

Junhui snorted, but it was without humor. “Right. Now who are you, really?” Junhui held out his hands for the sheet music the boy had clutched in his hands. He handed them over quickly, eyes averted.

When he spoke, it wasn’t quiet or lacking in confidence-- but his tone revealed his embarrassment thoroughly. 

“Xu Minghao. My family produces silk in another kingdom near the ocean,” He scratched his head awkwardly. 

“Ah-- well, I’ve never been in a place like this before.” He gestured around him, and Junhui assumed he meant the palace itself-- not the aged brick walls that caged them.

Junhui’s eyes narrowed. “So you thought it would be appropriate to sneak off in a purposely hidden room?” He folded his arms against his chest and leaned on the wall’s rough surface.   
Junhui wasn’t an idiot-- this ‘Xu Minghao’ could be anyone, possibly another investigator set out uncover the secrets of the new Queen. 

The last thing Junhui wanted was another investigator to murder in cold blood.

Still, Minghao looked utterly mortified at being found snooping-- but not scared, terrified. Just incredibly flustered. 

Junhui took this as a sign that he was most likely being truthful.   
Minghao’s skin was sun kissed, most likely a result of living near the sand. His inexperience with castles was almost laughable.

And if Junhui was in a different situation, he would’ve laughed.

The King had mentioned something about putting a monopoly on a silk business in a foreign seaside kingdom. Unless Minghao’s family succumb to selling their business away, the King would have their heads-- and send his own men to take over. 

Junhui swallowed. “Say, does your family have any interest in selling their business?” 

Minghao blinked in mild confusion, the sudden topic change baffling him. “We don’t. Why are you asking, exactly?”

Junhui shifted on his feet, eyes trained to the wall ahead. “Just palace gossip. But I’d highly recommend that you accept any offers you receive.” 

Mingao gave him a look that was hard to decipher--and Junhui was in no mental state for solving puzzles. He had one job to focus on at the moment, and refused to waste any more time stalling the inevitable. 

“And before you ask, I’m not going to tell anyone about this. Though I wouldn’t keep wandering around alone, for your sake.” 

Minghao nodded and brushed by Junhui quietly, an appreciative smile gracing his features. 

“Thanks, see you around.” 

Minghao left, his light steps could be heard fumbling in the dark corridor. 

Junhui only left the wall’s side once the noise subsided, heading straight for the locked briefcase sitting complacently under his bed frame. 

A necklace with a small, silver key embellished on it was practically burning his skin beneath his dress shirt.

…

Minghao had received a good scolding from his parents after he stopped by their rooms to explain that he had gotten ‘lost’. 

His mother reprimanded him for not being more cautious in a place that was unfamiliar to them-- his father gently chastising Minghao to not embarrass them, for the sake of their business opportunity. 

Speaking of which, Minghao couldn’t seem to find sleep as he tossed under satin sheets. The words of the piano player filtered through his head, unsettling him. 

Why would a musician need to be kept somewhere hidden away from other people? A palace always had spare space available, there was no doubting that. Aside from this, it appeared outdated-- the furnishing not well kept and aged.   
The pianist was incredibly talented. He could go anywhere with his skill level, what was the purpose of staying in a place that treated him so poorly? Minghao couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there seemed to be no benefit to this.  
And all of those locks. 

Something twisted in Minghao’s gut.   
This pianist knew too much and had too little. Surely, there was something wrong.

His eyes had been so exhausted, drained of energy.   
Minghao felt as though someone with that talent shouldn’t be living a life that burdened them. 

His eyes fell closed, but his thoughts wouldn’t subside.

The pianist had secrets.

…

Junhui had a plan that he hoped would be satisfactory.   
The wedding was a short five days from now, leaving less time for detail and even less time for appropriate action. 

The day before the wedding, Yoon Jeonghan would be found dead in his room-- dying of poison sometime in the night. The Kingdom would mourn for a single day-- and then the event would be forgotten during the midst of a celebration. Choi Hansol would be crowned the Prince, and the successor to the King. 

Junhui took short strides to his destination, his hands trembling in dread. His nerves could never best him.   
Still, he had to keep an act. Play the part of a phantom killer, someone who enjoyed the game. The same man who had encountered the late Lee Jihoon. 

The same man who had hoped to scare away Lee Jihoon, before his untimely demise became unavoidable. 

He stopped and knocked abruptly three times on the door to the Queen’s meeting room.   
It opened, revealing a displeased looking man that Junhui had never seen before.   
Quickly thanking him, Junhui entered the room and bowed before the Queen, who was currently seated with the King.

Wait, what--

Junhui could feel eyes burning into his skin. Near the man who had opened the door was a woman who looked fretful and anxious.

Next to her was Xu Minghao, who stared at him in utter disbelief. 

This meeting was meant to be entirely confidential, between the Queen and himself. In short, Junhui was not prepared for this whatsoever. 

“My apologies, Junhui.” The Queen smiled sweetly. “This meeting is rather last minute. The lovely Xu family were just leaving, though.” 

She gave a steely glare that seemed to mock them. Junhui had been the recipient of this look several times, and found it to feel utterly demeaning. Judging by the looks etched onto their faces, the Xu family felt the same way.

The door closed with a subtle ‘click’, the King having left just moments after Minghao and his disgruntled parents. 

The Queen accessed him, her polite charm completely cast aside. “Well?” 

Junhui explained his plan to the best of his ability, attempting to sound enthralled and eager-- the opposite of the emotions that ransacked his mind and increased his heart beat.

The Queen seemed to approve, and sent him off with the wave of her hand. Signalling her indifference to his thinking and her desire for everything to be said and done as quickly as possible. 

Junhui returned to his room, and felt a surge of annoyance to see none other than Xu Minghao sitting before him, in that stupid rickety chair.

…

Minghao caught the blatant irritation he had caused, and shook away the feeling of regret that was flowing through his veins. 

Mingao stood. “You were right,” he murmured. 

Junhui watched him, eyes observant. 

Minghao pointed at him. “We were threatened-- but you tried to warn me, right? So how did you know?”

Junhui scoffed. “I already told you that it was castle gossip, word gets around. Now if you’ll excuse me--”

Minghao held out his hand, and blocked the direction Junhui was going in. It wasn’t aggressive, and Junhui caught the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Why are they hiding you, Junhui?”

Junhui let the words seep into his skin, and could feel Minghao’s eyes studying him. Apparently, Minghao wasn’t as naive as Junhui had first imagined. Unfortunately for him, that meant certain death in these god forsaken walls.

Junhui could tell by the way Minghao glanced at him that he was doing this out of concern. Dear God, this was awful. If he found out too much, Junhui would have to kill him where he stood.

It was almost too perfect-- the fact that Minghao had wandered right into his territory. 

Junhui knew that he was beyond convincing by the steely glint in his eyes. . “You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

Minghao stared at him apprehensively, his arm unmoving. “I want to know how you know that. I want to know what’s going on.” 

Junhui extended his arm on Minghao’s chest and pushed on it lightly. “I can’t tell you that-- and trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Minghao remained unmoving. “I want to help you, Junhui. And I want to know how to protect my family.” 

Junhui thought for a moment.

Minghao continued, his manner of speaking calming in a way that Junhui wasn’t quite used to experiencing. Junhui wasn’t used to being treated as an equal.  
“You can help me with that-- I know you can. Let’s help each other.”

Minghao was analyzing him, that much was obvious. He was searching for a reaction, something to latch onto.   
Junhui was going to do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

Minghao was intelligent, and far too eager to assist him. Junhui wasn’t sure how to keep Minghao from coming back after this, simply because Minghao was kind. He had seen things he shouldn’t have seen, and trying to involve himself in things that didn’t concern him.

Junhui despised murdering innocent people, even if he tried to work with no strings attached.   
He always did his best to save them, to the best of his ability.

No one had ever attempted to save him, though.   
Not even Soonyoung.

Junhui wouldn’t let anything develop, he couldn’t.

He leaned into Minghao’s ear. “You listen to the King, you leave, and you never come back to this place. That’s how you survive. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Junhui quickly pulled out a small pocket knife and grazed Minghao’s cheek, who flinched in shock. Small scarlet droplets formed.

Junhui gently pressed the blade to Minghao’s neck. “You can’t trust anyone here. And if you come back here again, I can’t promise that you won’t end up dead.” 

Junhui’s eyes lingered as crimson poured down the newly inflicted cut.   
“I don’t need saving, Minghao.”

If he had to frighten him, then so be it.  
Fear kept you alive.

…  
Minghao felt the shallow cut tentatively as his mother fetched some ointment that had been brought with them while travelling from the coast.  
She had pounded on his door nearly moments after his hasty retreat from the pianist, her panicked look at the shallow injury was almost comical.

He had insisted that the cut was not urgent enough for proper treatment, which his mother scoffed at indignantly.   
“I’m a mother, let me do my job. After all, these palace people are monsters. Be more careful around sharp edges, alright? And don’t wander so much, I worry--”

Minghao cut off his mother’s distracted ramblings with a laugh. “You shouldn’t worry for me so much.”

Silence settled over them. For the first time, it wasn’t comfortable.   
His father looked out the window thoughtfully. The wrinkles around his eyes and his graying hair more evident now than ever.   
“No, your mom’s right. We should have never travelled here-- it’s dangerous.”

He turned to face them grimly. 

Minghao’s mother pressed a small bandage to his face, and he couldn’t help but feel utterly ridiculous. Still, she was most likely just trying to distract herself.

“You’ve been thinking for awhile, darling. Not that there’s anything to be thinking about-- we will give up our business and let the Queen profit. Our lives are worth more than petty fabric.”  
His parents had been bickering about the ordeal, his father believing the threat to be an intimidation tactic; and his mother resenting having to find out. 

Minghao fidgeted in discomfort, inhaling sharply. 

“Our town is poor. It is uncertain whether or not we could make a living. We were fortunate to have gone on for as long as we did.”   
The resignation in his father’s tone and the strange melancholy that enveloped his words were completely suffocating, and Minghao hadn’t been expecting it. 

“Then we will struggle. Then we will be poor. But at least we’ll have our lives.” She snapped. 

Minghao returned to his room, emotionally exhausted-- but once again, unable to retire to sleep.   
…

Minghao’s thoughts returned to Junhui despite himself. The blade had slashed his cheek without hesitation, a warning. 

And yet, Junhui’s eyes held no anger. His hands had barely managed to do any damage, Minghao had been in more shock than pain.   
Junhui could have inflicted serious injury, or maybe even killed him. He clearly knew how to wield a weapon.   
It was strange to think, even outlandish-- but it seemed as though Junhui was only attempting to scare Minghao away as a way to protect him.

Why?

He had only proved Minghao’s suspicion. A pianist would have no need to carry around small blades and be hidden away in a secret room. In fact, a mere pianist wouldn’t need to put up so many boundaries.

Junhui was lonely, isolated. Minghao knew that somehow, they could work together. Junhui obviously had more knowledge than he let on.

However, Minghao couldn’t wait to convince him. No matter how concerned he was for his circumstances, or how charmed he had been watching him play-- his family had to come first. 

Minghao enveloped his frame in heavy cloak that was the color of a starless night sky. Stepping out cautiously into the deserted hallway, he set out to investigate. Surely, there had to be a way to save his family.

He had been wandering aimlessly for at least fifteen minutes when Minghao stumbled upon a grand set of golden doors that were most likely worth more than his family’s entire fortune.   
This is exactly what he had been looking for.

Whispers of the most extravagant library with the largest collection of books had been exchanged when his mother chose to affiliate with a merchant’s daughter.   
Minghao had pretended to be interested at the time, and cursed himself for not paying more attention to where the library was actually located.   
Should there be a place to find castle secrets, the largest room in the entirety of the palace couldn’t be a bad place to check. 

He stepped in cautiously, cringing when the door shut behind him. It echoed throughout the quiet, eerily still room.   
Minghao slowly slipped through several bookshelves, groping around blindly in the dark. He hoped to find a wall, something to at least guide himself on while he searched for another hidden room. If there was one, there had to be another.   
A muffled cry immediately caught his attention.

Minghao grasped towards the nearest bookshelf with white knuckles. A light could be seen in between the gaps of a bookshelf several feet away. 

A lantern was placed on the velvety floor, illuminating a small amount of space. A girl was practically slumped against a woman as she placed something back into her cloth pouch.  
The girl seemed to be a handmaiden who had fallen unconscious into the woman’s arms.   
At least, that’s what Minghao had believed until he heard her whimpering. 

The woman’s hand was clamped around the girl’s mouth.   
She was whispering something that Minghao couldn’t hear.

Carefully, Minghao shuffled around another bookshelf-- hastily crouching behind a navy loveseat. He could hear the sound of footsteps as the woman began stalking away. 

He peered out to see the girl thrown upon the woman’s shoulder as they headed towards the exit with solemn footsteps. Startled, Minghao threw himself out from behind the chair in pursuit of the woman.   
He tripped over the cloak, and landed on the floor with a loud ‘thud’.

The woman stilled.   
Her lantern emitted a dull glow as her gaze sweeped his general area.  
Slowly yet surely, the woman trekked towards him. 

Minghao lifted himself in preparation for a confrontation despite his confusion. The light had not yet reached him, and so Minghao readied himself.

His heart was thumping out of his chest, and he was only vaguely aware of his uneven breathing as the woman’s figure loomed closer.   
A hand grabbed his wrist. 

Startled, Minghao jolted upwards and nearly let out a noise of surprise-- which was stopped by the other hand covering his mouth.

“Don’t. Move.” A familiar voice whispered harshly into his ear, tickling his skin. He could feel another body pressed against his, and Minghao’s thumping heart slowed considerably.

“Sorry, your majesty. I fell.” Junhui’s voice sounded confident behind him. The light not able to reveal either of them in the shadows, concealing Minghao’s presence. 

The woman let out a sound of annoyance as she turned, her steps hurried-- the helpless girl still on her shoulder. 

Minghao fought against his grip. He elbowed Junhui in the ribs who grunted in surprise and released him as the door closed.

Minghao surged forward. 

Junhui also surged forward, tackling Minghao and pinning him to the ground beneath him. 

“That girl--Junhui, let go--” 

Minghao struggled in desperation. Junhui’s expression was hidden away from him in the darkness. 

“You couldn’t of saved her.” 

Minghao finally stopped struggling, and was reduced to a panting, gasping mess.  
Junhui reluctantly helped Minghao to his feet. 

Minghao turned and sprinted towards the door, a cursing Junhui trailing behind him. 

Junhui grasped his cloak and tugged him backwards. Minghao tumbled, causing both of them to hit the floor. 

Minghao pinned Junhui down. “I’ll scream as loud as I can, and then she’ll come back.” 

Junhui’s blade was held against his throat, and Minghao could feel it drawing a fair amount of blood. “But you can’t guarantee that, can you?”

Minghao found himself laughing-- and why was certainly beyond him.   
The grip on Junhui’s knife tightened. 

Minghao’s hand somehow found itself to the side of Junhui’s face, and he held it gently.  
He could feel Junhui suppress a breath. 

“You know,” Minghao caressed his cheek with his thumb. “You could of let her find me. It would’ve saved you a lot of trouble.”

Minghao looked down at him mournfully. “Why are you here, Junhui?” 

Junhui didn’t answer, as he lowered his blade down to his side. 

“Minghao,” Junhui whispered as though someone could burst in any minute.   
“Minghao, you shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.” 

Minghao’s hand moved to touch Junhui’s hair, but it was blocked by his hand. He spoke as he lowered it dejectedly. “I’m not leaving. You should know that by now.” 

Minghao helped himself to his feet while brushing himself off. “I wanted to find more secret passages. I thought that I should look here.” 

Junhui remained silent at Minghao’s explanation. 

Minghao pressed on. “If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, I’ll figure it out myself--starting with that woman.” 

Junhui stood in front of him sternly. “That would be certain death.” 

Minghao approached him carefully, their hands brushing. “Why is that?”  
Junhui refused to speak, but Minghao was a fast learner. 

He talked when flustered. 

Minghao gently brushed his hands across Junhui’s cheeks, stomach flipping all the while. Even in the severity of the situation, Minghao found his head foggy with thoughts of just wanting to be near Junhui. His hands wrapped themselves around Junhui’s neck, who stood rigidly beneath him.

“Let me in,” Minghao breathed. 

Junhui pulled away. “Damn it.” His voice sounded heavy with an emotion Minghao couldn’t place. 

Junhui placed guided Minghao with his arm.   
He could hear Junhui feeling against the wall bookshelves until one moved to the left slightly-- making enough room to squeeze through. A familiar musty scent hit Minghao’s nostrils like a slap to the face. 

They were in another hallway similar to the one that Junhui lived in. “This connects back to my room.” Junhui murmured. 

Junhui guided him with a hushed voice until they reached the splintered door.   
He stepped in without hesitation.

Junhui pried the shelf back, and invited Minghao into his bed chambers.   
He sat on his bed and gazed up at the ceiling, averting eye contact. 

Junhui gestured to the chair and desk next to the bed. 

“Have a seat.”

...

Junhui couldn’t recall the exact day it had all started with accurate detail, mostly because he had done his absolute best to suppress memories he didn’t particularly care for.  
In other words, Junhui tried not to remember just about everything.

Palace workers had taken him out of his orphanage when Junhui was eleven years old. He was positively thrilled, his childish naivety magnifying the positive aspects-- unable to truly grasp the situation at hand.   
He had been trained diligently for three years under a group of men that treated him with disrespect and indignation, claiming that he was disposable-- worth nothing.   
At the time, Junhui refused to believe them. He had been taken away from a life of unhappiness into a life of misery and abuse, again? Surely not. They had chosen him, and once his training was complete-- he would have the skills to show for it. 

Junhui was given his first task at the tender age of fourteen, blissfully unaware of the consequences that would ensue. His task had been to slip a small portion of bubbling liquid into the stableman’s drink. It wouldn’t hurt him, Junhui knew better.  
He just had to believe in his superiors.  
The next day, the mission was deemed only half way successful for reasons that Junhui didn’t understand. 

“The poison isn’t short term, but long term. The King will have to make his chemist strengthen it somehow.” A guard mumbled to a gruff looking man.

Junhui didn’t sleep well that night. He wasn’t a child anymore, and those words had unsettled him greatly.   
It was possible that he had just poisoned a man, who did nothing but care for horses. 

The killings continued, escalating to more violent and quicker means of death. At first, Junhui’s murders only consisted of criminals, thieves-- people who deserved their deaths.   
Junhui was sixteen when he spoke to the King in person for the first time.   
A task to hunt someone down and not only kill them-- but anyone associated with their surname. The children, the wife-- everyone.   
Junhui refused in a state of uneasy shock. 

That night was easily the worst night of Junhui’s life. Several scars still litter his tenderized skin, and the night terrors are still haunting.

Junhui committed the murder of an innocent family because he was afraid, a coward.   
Junhui didn’t want to suffer anymore. He felt as though the world owed him something, and so he killed with a cold heart. 

At the age of eighteen, Junhui’s false reality collapsed. 

The stableman had finally died, the first of his victims. 

It had been so long ago that Junhui had nearly forgotten. Soonyoung’s shattered face was something that he could never forget.   
He had purposely avoided him. Attachment was an assassin’s worst enemy, certainly. 

Hearing his anguished cries had been enough to wake Junhui’s sense of denial. The world had no debt to pay, his acts were justified only in his mind twisted by trauma.   
And the realization that he had known that all along was had been the most painful. 

Junhui no longer wanted to preserve his life-- he knew that much. 

However, all of those tear stained faces-- all of the times he stared down at blood stained hands, emptily.   
If he simply threw his life away, then what had he struggled for?

If Junhui died-- then what had those people been killed for?   
If Junhui gave up, then all of his restless nights and emotional scarring-- they were for nothing.   
It would have all meant nothing. His monstrous life, this unloving, selfish cruelty that had ensnared him.   
And so he kept going.

He progressed in terms of ranking. The King was tired of his wife threatening to expose him for his senseless killings, the sheer annoyance of her defiance enough to ask for Junhui’s assistance. 

He complied. 

A new woman arrived, a previous acquaintance of the King-- who knew of her murderous tendencies-- and her ability to charm any unsuspecting business partner.   
She agreed to a marriage. After all, who wouldn’t want to be royalty? 

Junhui was at her mercy.   
He led maids to their deaths-- he watched as she poisoned squealing innocents until they fell unconscious.  
She was easily the most sickening human being Junhui had ever laid eyes on. 

The prince was still grieving over the death of his mother, and began acting out accordingly from disdain held towards his father. 

A new arrangement was made.   
Yoon Jeonghan would die two nights before the wedding, his death swept under the rug. The new Queen’s son would rule as King one day instead. 

Lee Jihoon soon became an irking distraction. 

Junhui entered out onto the balcony, coating his fear with energy. ‘Please,’ he thought. 

‘Please. I don’t want to kill Soonyoung. I’ve already taken so much from him, right under his nose-- can’t you see?’ 

Junhui attempted to scare him. To pretend to be enthralled at the idea of a game of murder and secrecy.   
And in the end, Junhui was the winner. 

And in the end, Junhui was still a monster. 

…

Minghao stared ahead with wide eyes, the stunned silence engulfing him. Junhui didn’t waver, and shot him a look of bitter resignation. 

“I kill people, Minghao. That’s all there is to it.” Junhui’s words were shaky, betraying his inner turmoil. 

Minghao’s hands were trembling, and he could feel a burn from bile rising in his throat. 

Junhui had eyes that were brimming with pent up emotions. 

He had been subjected to a life of murder and self preservation-- and then continued, despite himself. It didn’t sit well with Minghao, and he imagined that it never would. 

The same hands that played the piano so skillfully-- also murdered in cold blood.  
The distant pianist was a cover, for the detached murders that he committed under the sinful midnight sun.

Even so---  
Minghao swallowed.

Junhui was a good person. Minghao couldn’t imagine that someone who was truly evil could feel such a sense of regret-- to base actions off of sorrow, to the point of living only for those who couldn’t.

His childhood had been deprived, into a maddening, manipulative nightmare.   
There were so many problems. Junhui’s mental state, the Prince, his family. 

Minghao wondered if there was a solution for all three. 

“Junhui,” he whispered. 

This caught the latter’s attention, who glanced at him with ghostly, red rimmed eyes. 

“If we-- if we killed them. That would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”

Junhui bolted upright, alarm etched onto his features. “That’s impossible. The key to their door is with the head guard-- and I’m not involving you in any of this.”  
Junhui’s ran his hands over his face, leaving red imprints on his skin. 

“Why don’t you hate me, Minghao? Aren’t you scared? Disgusted?” Junhui laughed bitterly. 

“I don’t deserve help.” 

Minghao pried Junhui’s hands away from his face, and tilted his head up. Nimble fingers wiped away his tears with comforting strokes.

“You deserve more than this,” Minghao murmured. “So much more.” 

Junhui looked on with watery eyes, and smiled. It was small, but it was genuine-- and Minghao felt his heart constrict. 

“I think that I may have a plan.” 

…

Junhui rapped on the heavy set door, his head was foggy-- and the world seemed to spin.   
It was the middle of the night when Yoon Jeonghan opened the door, with bed head and bags under his eyes.

He leaned against the side of the door in mild confusion, still blinking sleep from his eyes. The sight of an unexpected visitor perplexed him, surely.   
Jeonghan said nothing, just waited in irritated silence for an explanation. 

Junhui provided one.   
He told him everything. The same words that he had spilled to Minghao were being repeated with hurried urgency.   
Minghao stood next to him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. 

Jeonghan gripped the door frame with white knuckles, straining from having to hold himself up. 

“I was supposed to kill you-- tonight.” Junhui stared downwards, not ready to look into the eyes of a man who was motherless-- thanks to him. 

It was then that Junhui noticed a second presence, a ghost lurking in the darkness behind the prince. He heard quiet whispers, and saw a hand urging Jeonghan away from the door.

A house worker that Junhui recognized stood in front of them now.   
And he felt a shiver go down his spine at the pure fury in his piercing glare. 

“You’re not welcome here.” His words were laced with venom. 

Minghao attempted to interject, but the servant raised a hand-- signalling his silence. 

“After everything, you think you can come here and suddenly ask for forgiveness?” The man stared at him, coldly. 

Junhui met his frozen words evenly. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for atonement-- the head guard has the key to unlock the Queen’s door. He would listen to a royal.”

Junhui felt Minghao lace their fingers together, and squeeze them gently. 

Junhui bowed. “I want to make things right, the best that I can-- but I need his majesty’s assistance to do so.” 

There were a few beats of steely silence. Behind the servant, Junhui could hear Jeonghan voicing something along the lines of letting them come in. 

The man remained, fixated on Junhui. 

Finally, the prince pried him away with hushed whispers. “Jisoo,”  
Jisoo stepped away, allowing Minghao and Junhui to enter. A small candle had been lit, which let them study each other in the darkness. 

Jeonghan sat in a velvety chair with Jisoo planted firmly by his side. He still seemed disturbed-- his counterpart wary, eyes never leaving Junhui’s frame for more than a few moments. 

Jeonghan broke the unsettling silence slowly. “We had known,” his voice was strained, exhausted. 

“About some sort of conspiracy.” 

Junhui noted that Jisoo’s grip on Jeonghan’s shoulder seemed to tighten at his words. 

“Though, we hadn’t expected the perpetrator to come to us.” The prince laughed, it was empty and devoid of humor. 

Jisoo studied Minghao now, with cautious interest. “And who is this?” His words weren’t friendly-- but rigid and rather unwelcoming.

Minghao stood up and bowed in Jeonghan’s direction. “Xu Minghao. My family has been threatened by the King-- I’m an, er, acquaintance of Junhui’s. I thought that I could save my family, while also saving my friend.” 

“Oh. Well. By the sounds of your friend’s story, I would’ve thought that he could take care of himself.” Jisoo retorted sharply. 

Minghao stiffened, and his mouth opened to reply. 

“Tell me, acquaintance,” Jisoo narrowed his eyes. “Did you know?”

Jeonghan cut through the thick atmosphere. “Jisoo, stop.” Jeonghan stood, steading himself on the loveseat’s arm. Without it, Junhui guessed by his trembling limbs that he would have fallen. 

Jisoo rushed to his side and held him, keeping Jeonghan from hitting the floor in a mess of limbs. The latter leaned in and whispered something Junhui couldn’t catch, while rustling Jisoo’s hair. 

Jisoo, though seemingly unconvinced-- pulled his hand away from Jeonghan’s cheek and attempted to help him sit down once again. 

Jeonghan dismissed him, and Jisoo watched with a displeased look on his features. 

His eyes flickered to Minghao, but he remained silent. 

Junhui pressed against Minghao slightly, a comforting gesture. “I can assure you that Minghao knew nothing until earlier this evening.” 

Jeonghan nodded. His eyes were drained, and his posture was slack.   
“If we are to do this, I’ll need someone who's not in this room.” 

Junhui looked at him curiously. 

Jeonghan placed his arm around Jisoo’s shoulders. “Jisoo, would you--”

“Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you alone with them.” Jisoo replied curtly, with a worried glance in their general direction. 

Jeonghan laughed lightly, and it seemed that he was regaining his strength-- he could stand without clutching onto luxury furniture. 

“Oh, Jisoo. You worry too much.”   
Junhui felt like he was invading something private. He couldn’t place why, but the closeness of the two men seemed familiar in a way that Junhui didn’t want to acknowledge-- especially as he found himself looking at Minghao in the corner of his eye.

Jisoo looked at Jeonghan with tender eyes. “I’m your servant, it’s what I do.” 

Minghao coughed awkwardly. “I could get whoever you need. I know enough of this palace to get around.” 

Jeonghan nodded thoughtfully, the previous seriousness of the room returned. “The Queen’s son, Choi Hansol. Room 218,” 

“It’s just down the hall to the right.” He made a gesture with his hands, and Jisoo watched bemusedly. 

Minghao nodded.

He brushed past Junhui as if to say, ‘good luck’-- and exited the room.

…

Minghao had been standing outside room 218 for at least two minutes, unsure of what to do with himself. He wasn’t very good with talking to strangers as it is, and the thought of waking sleeping royalty terrified him-- if only a little. 

Still, three brief knocks resounded through the golden corridor. 

A face opened the door almost immediately, and peered at Minghao with eyes that were surprisingly awake.

Minghao stuttered out an apology for waking him. 

Hansol brushed it off. “I wasn’t sleeping.” He replied quietly. 

Light was escaping behind him. There was a desk that Minghao could see, with a wooden chair and a large book placed on it-- a bookmark was peeking out of the pages. A large picture of many different flowers encased the cover. 

Hansol blinked at him. “Did you need something?” Though, it sounded more like ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’ 

Minghao swallowed. “Um, the Prince needed you. The other one.” Minghao scratched his neck, eyes flickering between the wall and Hansol’s curious expression.

“Interesting. Why now?” Hansol brazenly questioned him. 

Minghao found it fascinating how anyone could possibly ever be so blunt. He wasn’t exactly sure. Then again, Hansol was technically royalty. 

Minghao lowered his voice. “There’s a plan underway. If the prince wants you, I’m assuming you know about a certain--ah, situation?” 

Hansol turned and went back into his room, leaving the door ajar. Minghao sputtered behind him, dazed.

He re emerged soon after, the room now darker than the night sky.   
Minghao realized that he had only been putting out the desk candle. 

Hansol nodded at him. “Let’s go.” 

He turned away from Minghao, and began walking down a hallway that was different from the one Minghao himself had come from. Perplexed, he jogged to catch up with his brisk pace. 

“Um. Isn’t his room the other way?” Minghao meekly managed to voice his thoughts, while also doing his best to avoid offending Hansol.

Hansol didn’t seem to mind the skepticism of Minghao’s question. 

He smiled knowingly. “Oh, we’re not going there. Not yet anyway.” 

Minghao stared at him dumbly. Their footsteps could be heard in the silence that he wasn’t sure how to fill. 

The hallways slowly began to look less extravagant and intricately designed. They also became more narrowed, and so Minghao walked behind Hansol rather than by his side. They were soon outdoors, a fact that Minghao found himself questioning with wary glances.

Hansol stopped suddenly, and Minghao nearly ran straight into his frame.

Hansol turned, an amused expression on his face as he shamelessly jiggled a metal doorknob-- creating such noise that Minghao visibly jumped.

The door opened to reveal a grumbling man who looked so annoyed that Minghao did a double take. 

“Choi Hansol! Do you have any idea what time it is? I just saw you a few hours ago. I have to get a certain amount of rest to keep bags away from my eyes, And I know that you know that already--” 

Hansol laughed at him, much to the latter’s indignation.   
A pink flush crept across the new man’s face, and tinted his ears. He sighed in exasperation. “What.” 

Hansol pushed Minghao forward. “He says that Jeonghan needs me, something about a plan.” 

Minghao looked between the two, and introduced himself to the man apologetically. 

Hansol looked at the newcomer earnestly as he said, “You’re apart of this too. I wanted you to come with me.”

The man’s face turned into a comical mixture of embarrassment and resignation as he said, “Fine. But I’m putting on actual clothes first.” 

Hansol’s eyes seemed to light up, and he offered a smug look. 

Minghao realized that he was hiding behind the door because he was most likely bare aside from underwear, and it seemed as though Hansol had also realized this. 

The door slammed shut, and grumbling could be heard inside. “And no, Hansol, you can’t come in.” 

Hansol chuckled and put his hands up. “Fine, you got me. But don’t take too much time, alright? I don’t want to keep Jeonghan waiting.” 

The door opened once more, and the man seemed to have regained his composure, aside from pink ear tips. He looked at Minghao and smiled kindly. 

“Boo Seungkwan, royal gardener. Nice to meet you.” 

They set off at a hurried pace down to Jeonghan’s room once again. Hansol opened it, and immediately studied Junhui with wide eyes.

Seungkwan came in behind him, and visibly paled. He not so discreetly shared a look with Hansol. 

Minghao closed the door behind him, and braced himself for the third time Junhui would have to tell his life story.

…

Seungkwan was not having it, and that was the first thing that was noted. 

Minghao watched, a helpless bundle of nerves as Seungkwan dramatically gestured to Junhui. 

“It was him! The entire time! We can’t just be okay with that,” He seethed. 

He pointed to Hansol, and his eyes softened. “That means that-- Hannie, your father…”

Hansol swallowed thickly. “This is our best option. It’s a good plan, and it will… put an end to everything.” His voice wavered.

Seungkwan shot an accusatory glance at Jisoo. “Jisoo. Please tell me you still have your sanity.” 

Jisoo shuffled awkwardly with a glance at Jeonghan, betraying his previous conversation. 

Seungkwan sighed. “Unbelievable. All of you.” 

Minghao could feel the tension flowing through his veins-- ready to burst. The pure misunderstanding and lack of empathy in the room was understanding-- but Minghao was exhausted by it. 

Stakes were far too high for this kind of nonsensical bickering.  
Minghao stepped forward. “Stop. Junhui is a good person, I know he is.” 

Eyes fell onto him in mild surprise, and Junhui attempted to silence him-- to no avail. 

“He saved me. The Queen almost found me-- in the library earlier, and he saved me. He also could’ve killed me the moment I accidentally found his secret room, but--”

He smiled, and cast Junhui a look of admiration. “He didn’t. Junhui has never wanted to hurt anyone. And after this is all over, he won’t have to anymore.”

A heavy stillness settled over them all. Hansol analyzed Minghao with an unwavering gaze, while Seungkwan apologetically twiddled his thumbs. 

Jisoo’s stare was piercing, and it made Minghao feel like he was hollowed. 

Jeonghan nodded at him with approval, and offered a small smile. 

“Tonight,” Jeonghan stood. “Everything ends.” 

…

Hansol and Seungkwan accompanied Junhui to his room while he fetched supplies. Minghao was with Jisoo and Jeonghan, who were heading to the guards chambers in search of Choi Seungcheol-- the head guard who had the key that would unlock the master bedroom.

Tonight would be Junhui’s most important and last kill-- there could be no mistakes. 

There was a silence, that was awkward and slightly off putting as they entered his worn down living quarters, though Junhui didn’t mind much. 

He was armed now, the steady beat of his heart a reminder of why he had fought so hard to live in the first place. 

A dagger glittered dangerously his tightening grasp.

Tonight, all of his victims would be avenged.  
A bottle of swirling poison sat in his pocket, begging to be used for the last time.

Tonight, Junhui would be avenged, too.

…

All of them stood on rooted feet outside of the two majestically crafted doors.   
Hansol and Jeonghan planned on entering once both parents were dying and unable to harm anyone, in order to say their respective goodbyes despite the circumstance.

No one spoke. 

Minghao looked at him with worried eyes. 

Junhui gave him a reassuring smile. He wouldn’t go down, that was certain. 

Junhui turned the key slowly, and the door creaked open. He slipped inside carefully, the faintest tremor in his legs.

Jeonghan had described the lay out of the room to the best of his ability, after all, time was running out-- it would be dawn soon. 

Junhui felt around blindly, dagger glistening in the vague moonlight that filtered through translucent curtains-- barely showing the outline of the bed the two monarchs shared.

The King was on the left, snoring loudly and masking Junhui’s movements-- something he was grateful for. The Queen was surprisingly still next to him, her breathing slow and even.

Junhui crept over to the King’s side. 

The blade was held high in his hand as the King’s throat was slit in a smooth motion. 

His head lolled back as scarlett liquid seeped around him. A disgusting choking sound filled the room as the King’s blood bubbled in his throat, and his breathing became erratic. 

Junhui turned to see the Queen watching with a distant, far away look in her eyes. He could see her right hand moving under pillow, revealing a kitchen knife.

With a shriek, she launched herself at Junhui. 

He dodged, but felt a stinging sensation on his forearm. In the Queen’s other hand was a needle, flowing with a poison Junhui recognized all too well. A small dosage would numb you temporarily, and you could recover. 

A lethal dosage would prevent you from moving for a few hours, before you puked up your bloody insides and died from blood loss.  
This was the perfected version of a weapon that had been used to kill Kim Taehyung-- Junhui’s first victim.

Junhui could feel his legs give out beneath him. He squirmed and held his knife up defensively-- she was fast. Junhui hadn’t even realized she had struck him with her syringe. 

Her eyes were alight with despair. “You traitor-- your death will be painful. You will suffer.”

She screamed, “You will suffer!”

Her knife raked Junhui’s chest in three bold strikes-- a pained cry escaped him as blood stained his shirt. 

She was laughing now, her knife held high above Junhui’s head.

The door opened slowly behind her-- Junhui made eye contact with Jeonghan.

Junhui’s poison was laying on the floor, having been dropped in the midst of their fight.

A new idea came to mind. 

Junhui held his dagger up defensively, acting as though he was going to strike her.

The Queen smacked the dagger away, and Junhui allowed it scatter across the floor in Jeonghan’s direction. 

“You’re a fool,” She snarled. 

Junhui turned to see Jeonghan standing by his father with a look of relief in his eyes-- though it was mixed with a strange sense of resentment that Junhui couldn’t place.

Jeonghan was distracted-- he couldn’t have that right now. Getting his attention could be life risking.

Would it all have been for nothing if he died? The murders, this attempt for atonement--

Was his life for nothing? His struggle?

He looked in the doorway to see Minghao-- tears falling and eyes locked onto Junhui’s bleeding chest.

No. This wasn’t all for nothing. 

Junhui opened his mouth to call for Jeonghan-- he could finish what Junhui started. 

Junhui made eye contact with Minghao, who looked as though he was suffocating. 

“I’m sorry,’ he thought. ‘But I need to do this.’

Minghao must have seen the look of resignation in his eyes, because he silently mouthed a simple word. 

‘No.’

Junhui closed his eyes. 

…  
Minghao watched as this vile, horrid woman readied to take Junhui away from him.

Junhui, who has never once had a happy ending. Junhui, who would die trying to do the very same thing that he wanted to escape his entire life. 

Hansol readied himself to intervene, but Seungkwan held him back with quiet, terrified pleads-- distracting him.

Jisoo had his eyes trained on Jeonghan, silently willing him to snap out of his apparent trance. 

Minghao darted forward before he could think.

He tackled the woman with all of his strength, shoving her off of Junhui-- who wretched away from her grasp.

Junhui was weak from the wounds to his chest, and remained on the ground-- though he was grunting in effort to haul himself up.

Minghao’s attack used both of his arms, leaving his stomach open for attack.   
Before he knew it, a numbing sensation flooded him and he fell to the floor--a tear in his shirt from the Queen’s jerky movements. 

Her syringe was nearly emptied as she held her knife in hand. 

She thrusted it forward, aiming for Minghao’s exposed stomach. 

Minghao shut his eyes.

He opened them to a whimper of pain-- seeing Junhui’s arm outstretched in front of him, knife embedded deeply into his flesh.  
Minghao cradled him, and stroked his face gently. “You’re an idiot,” He said, small gasps escaping his lips. “You’re already hurt.” 

Minghao’s tears fell onto his face, but Junhui didn’t seem to mind.   
He couldn’t seem to speak, but smiled slightly-- even if it was more of a grimace.

Behind them, Jeonghan coated the dagger in poison-- snapped out of his grieving state.

He thrashed the knife into The Queen’s side, and she fell to her knees with a strangled scream.

Blood escaped her lips as she eyed the room with angry, teary eyes. 

Hansol stood above her, with Seungkwan standing behind him near the door-- eyes averted from the grotesque sight.

Jisoo helped Minghao with Junhui, ushering him to a nurse. 

Jeonghan watched, a forlorned look on his features.

Hansol crouched down to meet his mother’s twisted expression. 

“It’s over,” He whispered. 

…

Spring Day Tavern wasn’t busy, and was lacking in clients for the past three days.  
Yoongi had said it was because of the royal wedding-- criminals didn’t want to be in a place with too many people, or something. 

In any case, Jungkook was grateful for the break. He thought of Soonyoung, Taehyung’s apprentice-- and his heart clenched.

Even so, the dawn was beginning to settle over the horizon. 

Jungkook felt himself smile.

He couldn’t place the feeling, but somehow he knew that something about the kingdom had just changed.

He felt Taehyung’s scent envelop him-- cherries, apple, straw and cotton.  
He turned, the smallest bit of hope planted in the pit of his stomach-- but no one was there.

It was strange, though.

Because for a moment, 

he had felt Taehyung’s arms around him again-- so comforting and secure.

Even stranger, the wind almost seemed to have carried his voice.   
“Jungkookie.”

And before Jungkook knew it, it was over. 

It was all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me. You all have no idea how much the comments and kudos meant to me, and how it motivated me to write :') I'm always looking to improve, so please feel free to give your thoughts on the story itself-- also, I'm posting an Epilogue right after this for the sake of closure. Thank you, again ^^


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which happy endings do, in fact, exist.

The entirety of the room was covered in scattered cherry blossom petals, encasing a serene, peaceful feeling.

Peasants clamored about, eager to catch a glimpse of the grooms before they were ushered away-- the ceremony and after party were to be held in private.

Castle staff had over exerted themselves thoroughly. At the news of the apparent royal murders, the kingdom had believed that a wedding couldn’t possibly go underway.

Fortunately for Jisoo, they were wrong. 

He sat, gazing at his reflection for any obvious signs of disarray. Aside from his nerves and clammy hands-- his appearance was incredibly well kept. Immaculate, even.

The ring that glimmered thoughtfully on his finger was a reminder of a promise that was fulfilled long ago-- though now he had something to show for it.

The Cherry Blossom trees were in full bloom, and the sky was cloudless.

Jisoo brought his hands together, and clasped them around his tie in order to tighten it.

He had never been more terrified-- not even when Jeonghan stabbed that wretched queen with her own poison. 

Oh, wait.  
A smile played on Jisoo’s face. 

She never became Queen, after all. 

Seokmin entered the room without knocking-- gracefully evading running down a flight of stairs for this occasion. 

He gave him a reassuring smile. “Congratulations-- the guys wanted me to tell you. Wonwoo is still helping Mingyu with serving food, and Chan is still running around doing-- well, something.” 

Seokmin offered a bubbly laugh, and firmly patted him on the back. 

Jisoo appreciated Seokmin coming to visit him, and gave him a grateful grin in return.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised. Chan says that you two have been sharing a room for awhile now.” Seokmin wiggled his eyebrows.

Jisoo choked. “Seokmin-- no. You have the wrong idea,” 

Seokmin laughed, and turned to leave the room with a cheeky expression gracing his features.

“I’m just teasing,”

The door shut, and Seokmin’s boisterous teasing could still be heard. “Though, there is only one bed in that room.” 

Seokmin’s departure could be heard as he scampered away, and Jisoo buried his burning face into his hands. 

On second thought, he regretted speaking with Seokmin.   
…

Jeonghan stood, rooted to his feet as he waited for Jisoo to walk down the aisle. His breathing was uneven enough currently, and Jeonghan contemplated whether or not he would faint.

Hansol, his best man, watched him with an amused expression. “You should calm down, you know. This is supposed to be fun.”

Jeonghan smiled at him, and nodded. “I know-- but this is strangely nerve wracking.” 

Hansol scoffed at him, and pushed his arm lightly. “Are you serious? You two have been sleeping together for a month now.”

An embarrassed laugh erupted from Jeonghan, and he playfully smacked Hansol’s hand away.   
“Don’t say it like that! You’ll make it sound dirty.” 

Hansol looked away, mischief evident from the way he fidgeted on his heels.   
Jeonghan briefly wondered if Seungkwan was a bad influence.

Speaking of which, “And what about you and Seungkwan?” 

Hansol was clearly startled by his question, and refused to meet Jeonghan’s eye.

“What are you even saying?” 

Jeonghan found himself teasing Hansol’s flustered state, before a soft piano interrupted him.   
Junhui sat on the sidelines, a piano having been hauled down several floors just for the occasion. Seungcheol had called it a safety violation, and Jeonghan had replied that it was a necessary evil.  
It was intended to be a gesture thanking Junhui for his assistance. Jeonghan wasn’t sure that he would ever stop feeling a strange sense of resentment around him, or that the awkward politeness would ever truly fade away.  
He accepted that, and he believed that Junhui did as well.

Jeonghan was drawn out his thoughts when Jisoo came from around a corner, smiling shyly-- his eyes searching and immediately landing on Jeonghan’s frame.

Jeonghan felt like his heart would beat out of chest-- a fluttery, aching feeling filling his chest.  
He would never become tired of Jisoo’s smile.

They stood across from each other, in a strange and last minute wedding that redefined tradition all together. 

Jisoo eyed him tenderly.  
Vows were exchanged and words were said, though Jeonghan couldn’t hear anything over the low ringing in his ears. 

Jeonghan leaned forward, and their lips connected together.  
Though it was chaste and polite, Jeonghan could goosebumps sparking across his skin and a spark from where they had touched.

Love was a funny thing.

Jisoo whispered to him, softly. “I kept my promise.”   
His ring sat on his hand, delicately.

Jeonghan laughed, his voice breathy as he replied, “I love you.”

Jisoo leaned into him, their foreheads resting together. “I love you, too.”

The ceremony was short and sweet. The after party was to be held at night, giving guests a time to clean themselves up and staff enough time to provide a change of scenery and mood. 

Jeonghan and Jisoo talked in hushed whispers in the moonlight, dancing and sharing sweet kisses with one another.

In that moment, with the breeze ruffling Jisoo’s hair lit by silver moonlight as he cupped Jeonghan’s face-- he had never been more beautiful.

Jeonghan laughed lightly as he tugged on Jisoo’s sleeve. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

Jisoo gave him an incredulous look. “Are you asking me to ditch our own after party?”

Jeonghan laughed, enveloped by a feeling of giddiness. “I guess I am.” 

Jisoo buried his head into Jeonghan’s chest and laughed. He looked upwards and their eyes met.  
“I can’t say no to you.” 

They slowly departed, a mess of laughter and tangled limbs. The trip to Jeonghan’s room was far slower than usual, seeing as he insisted on spinning Jisoo every five seconds.

After arriving, they both changed into silk pajamas and basked in one another’s presence. 

Jisoo snuggled up to Jeonghan, and embraced him warmly. “You’re a King now.” 

Jeonghan stroked his face and tilted his head upwards. “You’re a King now, too.” 

Their lips met briefly. “Yes, but-- you were always a King to me.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips twisted upward. “Oh?”

Jisoo nodded, and dramatically placed his hand on his chest. “Because you’ve always ruled my heart.”

Jeonghan let out a noise of breathy laughter. “That was terrible. You’re terrible.” 

Jisoo snorted, and wrapped his arms around Jeonghan’s frame. Face buried in his chest, Jeonghan could only barely make out his muffled words.  
“I love you.”

Jeonghan’s hands settled on his lower Jisoo’s lower back. “I know. I love you, too.” 

…  
Hansol and Seungkwan had escaped the confined after party. Though Seungkwan was far more of a social butterfly than Hansol, it seemed like they both shared a longing to just be in each other’s presence. 

They returned to the garden, sitting in the center of the maze as if they were the only people alive in their own wonderland. 

The fountain behind them provided a soothing background noise for their low, teasing conversation.  
Jeonghan’s words had tousled Hansol’s insides. The deep affection he felt for Seungkwan was thought to be friendship, camaraderie-- something merely platonic.   
Hansol hadn’t had much experience with friendship itself, and certainly nothing beyond that. His life before venturing into palace walls had consisted of isolated self education and lonely reading. 

Everything had changed in such a limited amount of time. His monochrome world had been brought to life with color, because of Seungkwan. Hansol could understand that much alone.

He considered Jeonghan a friend, and even Jisoo. Though, the endearment he felt for them was different than his feelings for Seungkwan, and it puzzled him.

He wanted to hear Seungkwan’s laugh that ate away at his insides. To feel his eyes on him in a room full of people and no one else. He wanted to be near him almost constantly, to touch him and console him when things went awry.

And although he cherished both Jeonghan and Jisoo, he couldn’t compare them to Seungkwan.

They both sat in a comfortable stillness, while Seungkwan softly hummed.

Hansol realized that they were sitting so close to one another. Their sides were brushing up against one another, and if they both turned to face each other at the same time--  
Their faces would be barely inches apart.

Hansol felt blood rush to his face at the thought. 

Hansol felt around for Seungkwan’s hand in the darkness. He found it, and entangled their hands together experimentally.   
They had held hands before this, but that was different somehow. It was a brief, polite and occasional gesture that only ever lasted a few seconds.

Hansol wanted the fire igniting his skin to last forever.  
Seungkwan stopped humming, and laughed playfully instead.   
“What’s this? Did the wedding make you emotional?”

Seungkwan rested his head against Hansol’s shoulder. “Hannie~~ You shouldn’t hide your feelings so much.” 

Hansol wondered if Seungkwan could hear his pounding heartbeat. 

Seungkwan poked him teasingly. “You know, you don’t initiate affection usually. Something on your mind?”

Hansol turned to look at Seungkwan, who was peering up at him with sly eyes. 

He swallowed thickly. 

“Seungkwan?” He asked hesitantly. Hansol’s eyes skimmed over Seungkwan with a strange sense of longing that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. 

Seungkwan sat upwards, concerned at Hansol’s tone. His eyes were laced with the slightest sense of worry. 

He waited patiently for Hansol to finish his sentence. 

Hansol glanced at him briefly, before inhaling deeply.

“How are you supposed to feel about friends?”

Seungkwan blinked at his question. Hansol has always appreciated the way Seungkwan truthfully answered his concerns-- that must have been why he was so playful. He was trying to get Hansol to speak his worries aloud.  
Seungkwan was amazing at reading people he cared about. From sensing slight changes to their tone, their posture. Since he noticed so much, Seungkwan must’ve been expecting a conversation like this for some time now.  
Seungkwan was always so caring.

“It’s different for everyone,” He mused. “Though, usually you enjoy their company.” 

Hansol frowned-- that wasn’t specific enough. He ran long fingers through his hair. 

“How do you know the difference between friendship and something else?”

Seungkwan let out a quiet laugh, that struck a wrong chord within Hansol suddenly.   
Seungkwan repositioned himself-- the warmth that flooded through Hansol at their close proximity was gone now. 

“Has a young maiden captured your heart?” Seungkwan swooned dramatically, his hand pressed against his forehead. “Don’t worry, Hansol. I’ll help you make a bouquet.”

His hand lowered to his side. There was something about his smile that was forced, and sharp.  
“Though I don’t know if I’m ready to give you up just yet.” 

The air was thicker than before. Seungkwan’s statement had a melancholy sense to it that Hansol didn’t understand.

Hansol scooted closer, and placed a hand on Seungkwan’s thigh.  
“I wasn’t-- I mean, uh. I was talking about you.”  
Seungkwan gazed at him as though he had two heads, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. 

“Hansol-- you couldn’t possibly like me in that way. You’re the type of guy that finds some girl and then, then--”

Seungkwan huffed, and moved Hansol’s hand away in a slow but firm dejected movement.   
“You’re just confused, Hannie. You don’t like me.” He whispered in a way that made Hansol want brush the hair out of his face and whisper sweet nothings to him for the rest of his life. 

“Prove it.”   
…

Seungkwan had always resented the fact that Hansol had been deprived of his childhood, his own damn feelings. Thankfully his wretched mother was dead now-- though the damage she inflicted remained all too well.  
Seungkwan tried his best to help Hansol with everything, he truly did. Though there was always a single thought that fell past his defenses and slipped through his grasp.

Hansol didn’t belong to him.

Hansol was so beautiful, and not just from his features alone. His caring and thoughtful personality-- everything.  
He was everything.

But one day a girl would come fluttering her eyelashes and making bedroom eyes at Hansol--and it would sweep Hansol off of his feet.   
Seungkwan had been preparing himself for this day-- the day that Hansol didn’t need him, anymore.  
It caused a pain in his chest, but it was inevitable.   
Seungkwan couldn’t imagine anyone as amazing as Choi Hansol loving him. 

So when the question arose, Seungkwan provided his rehearsed reaction.   
He was hurting. He had known for so long that this day would surely come--   
Seungkwan still wasn’t ready for it. 

“Prove it.”

The words were a gentle tug, bringing Seungkwan back to reality. He looked at Hansol with dazed confusion. 

“When you like someone, being near them makes you feel-- different.” Hansol gestured at the air in vague embarrassment. 

Hansol leaned forward, intertwining their hands and brushing his thumb along Seungkwan’s knuckles.   
Seungkwan could his breath hitch in his throat slightly. 

“If I don’t like you, then I won’t want to be intimate with you.”

Seungkwan turned away from him, because facing him with those invasive eyes would be too much.  
He wondered if he should play along for Hansol’s sake. 

Any protest died on Seungkwan’s lips immediately when Hansol’s breath hit his neck.  
Goosebumps broke out across his skin-- and Seungkwan inhaled sharply.

Seungkwan could feel a ghosting of Hansol’s lips on his neck, and he shuddered. 

Hansol guided Seungkwan’s face so their eyes met. 

Hansol leaned into Seungkwan’s ear, and murmured quietly. “I’m not going to leave you. I can tell by the way you look at me that you’re scared of something,”   
His breath tickled the shell of Seungkwan’s ear. 

Hansol’s hand gently traced the outline of his collarbone. “I’m right here,” 

Seungkwan thought that he was going into cardiac arrest from the way his chest was constricting.   
Hansol placed a firm hand on his waist, while his other stroked Seungkwan’s palm.

Hansol leaned forward, and captured their lips together. 

Seungkwan kissed back, his utter relief seeping into the way he tangled his hands into Hansol’s hair.

They both pulled away as Seungkwan started tearfully blubbering about Hansol leaving him.

Hansol wordlessly clung to his frame, and held him gently.

Seungkwan could feel the erratic beating of Hansol’s heartbeat-- and realized how much anxiety he must have been feeling to initiate something like this.

It was so, incredibly out of character.  
Hansol must have wanted to distract Seungkwan from his deprecating thoughts.

Seungkwan kissed him deeply again, and he could feel a smile on Hansol’s face.

They looked at one another with admiration.  
No words needed to be said.

…

Minghao searched for Junhui throughout the palace. The party had ended an hour or so ago, and still the pianist was nowhere to be found. He had most likely prolonged the search by checking his uncomfortable hidden chamber (though Jeonghan insisted that he no longer needed to stay there), and then running off through empty corridors and calling Junhui’s name in frustration.

It had irked Minghao enough that he had insisted on playing for the wedding despite his apparent injuries-- and now he couldn’t find the man to save his life.

To find the man who saved his life.  
Minghao felt a lump forming in the back of his throat. Thoughts of Junhui with blood stained clothing and a distant, foreign resignation on his features was a sight that would plague his nightmares.

Minghao’s family was leaving by daybreak-- and he knew all too well that this persistent ache in his chest would remain there for a long time.  
Junhui’s dream was to become a pianist. It was so perfect for him, to stay and perform as he rightfully should.

Junhui was destined to perform, his emotion showed when he played.   
Minghao found it beautiful.

But he was worried for Junhui-- would he isolate himself once again? Who would be there, when he started panicking in his sleep?

Minghao felt choked up thinking about it-- even now.

Minghao closed his eyes. He wanted more than anything to remain with Junhui-- but his family.

His heart was tearing-- and Minghao was helpless against it.  
The least he could do was console himself with a sense of closure--

All he longed for was to at least say goodbye. 

Minghao searched with quickened, shaky breaths.

He turned a corner, to see a familiar back facing towards him-- seeming a bit lost.

Minghao sighed his name in utter relief. “Junhui,”

Junhui turned, and upon seeing Minghao’s distressed state-- came to him immediately. 

Junhui embraced him without hesitation, and rubbed circles onto Minghao’s back.

“I was looking for you.” He muttered. 

Junhui pulled away from Minghao, to peer at him apologetically. “What happened?”

Minghao felt shameful for behaving like this-- he felt as though it would only make everything more painful.

Minghao had nearly lost Junhui-- was he truly destined to lose him yet again?

It seemed that Junhui shared the same sentiment, as he became clingier and more affectionate.  
Minghao didn’t mind at all. 

Minghao gazed at him sadly. “I have to leave at dawn.” His lip had a small tremor to it.

…

Junhui stared at the boy in front of him-- and could feel his heart deflating. Junhui had a found a new sense of hope, a new reason for realizing that his struggles weren’t futile, useless--

Within Minghao.

Within Minghao, who was leaving in only a few hours. 

And it broke him a bit.

Junhui held Minghao’s face lovingly, and he leaned into the touch.

“I want to start again,” He murmured.

Minghao held his gentle stare.

Junhui felt all too vulnerable as he struggled to grasp the words that he wanted to express. 

“I want to start again-- with you. I want to leave everything behind.” 

Minghao pushed him away with a low voice that tugged on Junhui’s heartstrings. “You want to be a musician, Junhui. It’s what you’ve always wanted-- it’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.”

Junhui shook his head. “No, we won’t. I want to see you-- all the time, for as long as I can.”

Junhui crossed his arms. “I can make music anywhere I go-- but I can’t do it without you.”

There were a few beats of sorrow filled silence.

Minghao stood closer to him, now. “Then come with me,” he breathed. 

Junhui sank into Minghao’s embrace, arms wrapped around his figure tightly.

“Okay.”

To Junhui’s surprise, Minghao kissed him with a smile pressed firmly against his lips.

Junhui wouldn’t have it any other way.  
…

Somewhere in the clouds-- or maybe under the moon’s dazzling twilight, or perhaps even in the forest of dancing fireflies.

Soonyoung and Jihoon held hands. 

Somewhere, they were reunited in a place too heavenly for the human mind to truly imagine.

…

Jungkook could feel a presence beside him. He had taken up work as the new palace stableman, seeing as there was no one to do it now-- and convinced his partners in crime to leave the black market behind for a steady career as palace workers.

Reluctantly, they agreed. 

It was rather late at night, and Jungkook himself was so, incredibly tired.

Still, he thought he could see a pale silhouette standing in the doorway-- and the scent of apples was so strong it nearly choked him. The figure outstretched their hand-- and Jungkook could practically see that stubborn box grin on his features.

Jungkook blinked.

All that was left was the silver light coming in through the stable window-- like a shattered memory.

There was only one person who could make him so soft, so vulnerable.

‘Only you,’ Jungkook brushed Kookie delicately, smiling to himself.

Only you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm so grateful for all of you for reading :) I'm currently working on something else to post, too. Feel free to give me your thoughts/critiques about the story on twitter. @armyscarats
> 
> See you all again soon ^-^
> 
> P.S., I'm super socially awkward and I usually just retweet other people's posts-- so yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting fan fiction online, critiques and comments are always, always welcome! I'll do my best to update whenever I have time available :) I hope you enjoy reading, and please point out grammatical errors whenever you see them, thank you!


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